The Broken
by glittergoddess13
Summary: Years ago, fate binds Bobby & the Winchesters as family. Secrets & pain return to haunt them now as Dean fights to survive a coma. The connection holds the key to his time in Hell & who pulls the strings today. Twists! Drama! Emo! Limp! Protective! & MORE
1. Heat

"Hellfire and Damnation!" Bobby muttered when he banged his knee against the end table just outside his room. He was desperately trying to walk down the dark hallway without disturbing his comrades resting in the back room, but at this point he had made enough noise to wake the boys ten times over. He guessed he had gotten a bit careless since he hadn't had a night of such deep sleep in years which was odd since he chased an ancient werewolf until it was almost morning. It had been a smooth hunt, teamed up with his favorite pseudo sons, Sam and Dean.

"What is that you always tell us about Bull's in a china shop?" Sam smarted, feeling pleased he actually got one on Bobby. The youngest Winchester smiled, but yawned, obviously just waking.

"That you are full of its crap." Leave it to Bobby to one up a smart comment. "It's noon. You Knuckleheads should already be up and at it anyway."

"We'll before sleeping beauty gets up, I'm getting food and a hot shower before he hogs it all. "

"Good plan. You stink to high heavens."

"You might fix the air sometime."

"Now why would I do that? I ain't soft like you princesses. Speaking of… I'll go kick Dean's rear in gear."

Sam nodded with a yawn before he stumbled further down the hallway, still wiping sleep from his eyes as he made his way to the kitchen.

Bobby laughed, thinking no matter how old those boys got, the more they seemed like kids. When he entered the spare room, the hot noon sun already baked the room's air to balmy. The old air conditioner rattled, no longer blowing anything, but humming like there was no tomorrow.

"Rise and shine, your highness! More like a hind ass! It's daylight and we got to take care of that poltergeist tonight. Get a move on!" Launching a throw pillow from Sam's couch, Bobby aimed carefully at the sleeping man on the only bed in the room. The lumpy cushion flew in Dean's direction and hit the mark squarely- smack dab over Dean's head.

Bobby frowned when there was a lack of reaction. That annoyance alone was more than enough to get Dean in full mode smartass. Taking a closer look, he noticed that Dean was hunched over in a fetal position, which wasn't right by any means. Dean always sprawled out like there was never enough room for his appendages. But today, his knees were bent tightly to his chest, leaving enough room for two more people on the bed. He crossed carefully, not so much to keep Dean from waking, but from his own apprehension. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up as he pulled the blanket down.

Dean's body was soaked with sweat, more than a hot evening could do. Lack of air was one thing, but the Dean was drenched. However, it was Dean's face that really alarmed Bobby. The pale face was contorted by pain and his breaths were shallow, quick pants.

Moving Dean's forearm to find a pulse point, Bobby tried to assess him further. A groan of agony instantly stopped him, and shocked him even more. Even through the fabric of Dean's shirt, he could feel the heat. "Damn, you're burning up. Dean? Can you talk to me?"

"Bobby?" his voice was barely a whisper.

"Yeah… Where are you hurtin'?"

"Everywhere. Help me up."

Those words foretold things were worse than Bobby feared. Dean never asked for help, even when he really needed it, except for once a really long time ago. With a sigh of deepest regret and apprehension, Bobby nodded, now sitting on the other side of the bed. For a long moment he watched, hovering and lingering above the face of his friend. Finally, he reached a hand out to rest on Dean's back. "Easy boy."

Dean looked up again and his brow lowered in pain as his spine bent forward. The sharp agony sent a hiss to his lips. After a few moments, he twitched again, feeling the ice cold fingers of pain in his spine and gut. "Bobby……." He panted. "I can't………………I feel sick…I…" He folded his arm, slumped forward on them, and contorted his face to hold back the agony he was feeling.

"Shh...Rest...it's all going to be okay." He watched as Dean's eyes slipped to a close and his breathing fell into an uneasy rhythm. The pale freckled face eased a bit, and as Dean's mouth parted, soft pants escaped, filling the small space between worried sounds. Bobby patted the sleeping man's head in comfort. "Rest a bit."

Bobby's words were short lived as Dean's body lurched and fell from his chair to the floor in spasms of pain. Again, the hunter leaped to his feet and cradled Dean. "Easy. Breathe through it. need to check you out, hold on for me." Bobby sprinted towards his kitchen to the area under the sink, sliding most of the way more than running.

"Whoa! Where's the fire!" Sam asked as the man sprinted passed him.

"DEAN! Somethin's up. He's hotter than a fritter. "I'm not sure what's wrong. For the moment, he is breathing on his own and we can given him something to ease the pain. I am afraid to go to serious pain killers. But we will make him comfortable as we can and..." Bobby's hand latched onto his first aid kit and saw Sam's streaking back towards the spare room, not waiting for Bobby to catch up. In mere seconds he joined a frantic Sam already taking charge over Dean.

"You're on fire." Sam yelled.

"I'm okay." Dean lied.

"Open up, I need to take your temperature." Bobby ordered.

"Can't… gonna be…sick………"

Bobby took that warning instantly, grabbing a dented trash can from under a side table. Dean pushed forward, trying to sit up, but Sam had to help him. Quickly sitting against Dean's back, he maneuvered him, lifting his head and shoulders to aim for the metal container. Suddenly Dean shot forward as series of dry heaves began. Dean's dulled eyes begged for relief. Soon the heaves turned to retches, then the contents of Dean's stomach voided. The dry heaves began to choke his body. He wretched until it felt like an eternity. After several minutes of tasking vomiting, Dean grunted and breathed harshly from the effort.Mercifully, the vomiting finally stopped, and Dean relaxed. His stomach subsided enough for him to lean back against Sam.

"You're okay….You finished?" Once the can was out of the way, Bobby noticed the can contained liquid and blood. Instantly, he knew Dean was far worse than he left on.

Dean had drifted into fever and sweats. For the moment, he wasn't even aware of most of his surroundings. The nerve endings felt as if his muscles were contracted by a frigid ice sensation. He let out a painful sigh, trying to ease the burden. His spine rolled in chills and locked in torment, leaving his body slumping downwards before Sam's wrapped his arm around him.Sam's arms locked around Dean's waist, almost cradling him to rest under Sam's strength. Finally, Bobby assisted Sam to ease Dean back to the bed. As Dean left Sam's grasp, Sam's shirt lingered with a drenching from the sweat pouring off Dean's body and a pale but obvious splattering of blood. "Bobby...he's…"

"We'll take care of him."

"Okay, kiddo. I need to check your temperature. And if you don't want me to do it from the where the sun don't shine…." Dean made no attempts to fight, letting Sam and Bobby do as they wished. He just wanted to sleep after the taxing vomiting. "Crap…104.2!"

"We got to get that down. " Sam demanded.

Dean just remained still, unable to move, trying to find comfort from his bed. "I'm fine. I feel better now." He rolled to his side, moving and plastering his knees to his chest again.

"Horse crap." Bobby said. "You still aren't big enough to take me, so you fight us on this, I'll whoop ya. The only vote you get in your treatment is to suffer through it."

"You may feel better Dean, but if we don't get your fever down, you're gonna…."

Dean's body twitched as pain emanated deep within him, his body betraying him with shards of misery. His lips down turned and shook as he panted; trying to keep himself from feeling the sharp twists within him. Features collapsed into tighter versions, not allowing anything but an expression of agony to display on his face. He shook, slumping further back into the bed. His breath coming out in gasps, his head lolled to the side and rested against Bobby's shoulder.

"Easy, kid. I know…it hurts…Never met a more stubborn kid in my life." Bobby said a bit grumpy, but his eyes showed how panicked he felt. When he spoke again, it was as if he asking a child if his skin knees hurt. "Can you sit up?"

Dean just shook his head no, maybe indicating he lacked the ability or maybe as a way to protest the fuss Sam and Bobby were making.

"Then we'll just carry you." Bobby bent over, fully intent on making good on his demands. He reached under Dean's arm and started to pull him up.

The two men distributed Dean's weight between them and dragged him to the bathroom. When they arrived, they lowered him into the empty tub without getting him undressed. Time was a factor not on their side as Bobby turned the cold water onto full, plugging the drain.

When the first splatter of frigid water splashed against Dean's heated skin, he screamed. "Just kill me, please?"

"We can't. Pigheaded morons aren't in season." Bobby tried to lighten Dean's spirit at least. This was not going to be fun.

Sam chuckled as a thought crossed his mind. "Pigheaded."

"Yeah. It's definitely a disease that runs in your family. I think you boys cornered the market in it."

Sam put one arm under Dean's neck, keeping him comfortable and above water. Grabbing a washcloth, Sam scooted next to the tub, trying to cool down Dean's face.

While Bobby kept talking to Dean, he added just enough warm water to make it a bit more comfortable. "You know if I was a smarter man, that day I met you boys... I would have run for the hills."

"We were in the hills already," Dean coughed.

"If I knew what I was getting myself into, I wouldn't have tracked that twerp that day."

"Lucky you." Dean smarted. Darkly hued eyelids fluttered and twitched. Slowly, Dean's eyes opened to stare into Sam's. There was something blank and hazy about the way Dean looked, but in those red eyes there was pain, fear, love and confusion. Finally, his lips parted and a strangled sound emerged like the sound of a boot pulling from the sloshing, sucking mud.

"Yeah." He said as if he agreed, then the mood changed to tenderness. "Yeah, it was kiddo. So you hang on now. You owe me big-STILL- for that." Bobby looked softer and sadder.

Even being deathly sick, Dean read that expression easily and tried to make it all better. "Did I ever say sorry for punching you?" A happy smile lit on Dean's face before he groaned and shook. His breath was staggered and weak.

"No…no you didn't." Bobby smiled.

"Good." His movements were becoming slower and weaker and his body could not bear the slightest pressure. The more Dean tried to speak, the more difficult his breathing became. His limbs were swollen and pitted now, inflamed and screaming.

"I just remember being so sick that day." Sam said, trying to keep Dean's mind occupied. "I don't remember much of it. You've always been there for us."

"Yeah, you were downright ill and Dean was on his own to take care of you."

"He always does."

"Makes it hard not to care about him."

"Yeah."

Bobby smiled. If Sam hadn't gotten sick, they never would have met. The boys thought he had saved them that day, but Dean had given him something more important. He guessed fate was always telling him to snap out of his need for revenge after his wife, but it finally gave him the not so subtle reminder about his place in the universe.

Sam continued talking, but neither Sam nor Bobby really said anything important. They were more focused on keeping Dean's temperature down. "How is that, Dean? Dean?" There was no need to bother. Dean had slipped into unconsciousness; the frigid water no match for his illness.

Sam and Bobby sat holding and supporting Dean for several minutes in silence, splashing water over him. The seasoned hunter winched and gasped. They both seemed to be holding on baited breath for Dean's next reaction, clearly expecting worse and worse. Bobby wanted to say something just to break the strangled silence. When it was apparent that the young man had finally succumbed to sleep and the latest episode was over, Bobby spoke first. "He's in bad shape."

"He's still too hot." Sam reasoned.

"We got to get him to the hospital."


	2. Alone

**Author's note: A fast chapter. Please forgive the typos, but I am really a busy woman.**

**x-xx-x-x-x-x-xx-**

**Present Day….**

When they pulled Dean out of the drained tub, he awoke with the most violent of heaves. They lowered him to the floor, holding him over the rim as he threw up three more time, each increasing in violence. With every jolt of his body, waves of agony shuddered up and down. As the vomiting ceased, they let him rest against Sam. After that display of illness, Sam and Bobby didn't even try to get him out of his wet clothes. They dried him off the best they could and wrapped him in a blanket.

"No… no…too…. hot." He protested anything that added to his heat, but seconds later he would wrack with chills and beg for warmth. He heaved again, his lungs squeezed so tightly under the pressure. His throat was raw, pure agony, but only a bit of blood came up. He bit his lip to keep from moaning, but he didn't have enough energy to do that for long. It was a race between waiting for help and collapsing into unconsciousness. Darkness obscured his vision, and Dean paused for a moment, desperately trying to stay conscious. He bit his lip harder, drawing blood. The darkness slowly drew back, though it still hovered at the edge of his vision.

"Hold on, son." Bobby demanded. "I called an ambulance for ya. It's almost here."

Sam couldn't remember the last time Dean had been this sick. Sure, his brother had many mishaps during hunts, but not sick like this. That when he thought back to the Rawhead incident that almost fried Dean's heart. His brother looked like he had then and honestly Sam started to be get scared.

"I thought I would feel better with sleep" Dean muttered.

"You knew! The whole time you knew you were getting sick…." Sam said. For a moment he was beyond angry that his brother would have kept something this serious from him. One look at Dean however changed his mind and tone. "Just... hold on."

"Hurry up, you dilweeds!" Bobby said as if the insult would make the ambulance come quicker.

"I think he's getting worse."

Finally, after what seemed like eternity, the medics arrived. Sam and Bobby watched, numb with worry, as the team lifted Dean onto a stretcher.

Sam barely noticed Bobby standing beside him, a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"He'll be fine," Bobby muttered.

"What if he isn't?"

Bobby cut him off, "Don't you even finish that sentence."

"He'll be fine. I'll take care of him."

"It's my job...to take care of you." Dean protested from the gurney as he was loaded into the ambulance.

"Not this time."

Sam didn't mind taking care of Dean. His brother had always been there from diapers and baby food, first dates, making Birthdays special, supporting him when he was angry about their way of life, through the anguish of Jess burning on the ceiling, the lost of their father. There was just too many times that Dean had been there to make it all better.

* * *

**_December 1989- C_****_asper, Wyoming_**

_The cabin was silent for a moment before the whips of wind from the snow storm outside moaned against the wood. From the window the world looked new, unclaimed without a single structure in sight. A dark shadow looked out across the distance, blanketing what little moonlight shone in through the window, staring for some sign of life, before he crept silently into the bedroom. The figure leaned over the bed, placing a hand over the sleeping boy's forehead. _

_Sam stirred slightly in his sleep. An intrusion over his lips startled him and he jumped, his eyes wide. _

_"It's just a thermometer," Dean said calmly from above him. "Hold it."_

_As he blinked rapidly, he tried to bring the room into focus. He managed to obey Dean's order long enough for a temperature read. He smiled proud he did as Dean had asked, __until a sudden sneeze shot him forward, spraying everything with a wet sneeze stream. _

_Dean rolled his eyes and turned to find his brother wiping his nose on his sleeve. "That's disgusting." Dean said swatting Sammy's sleeve away from his face. Dean didn't like it. Sammy had had his cold for over a week and it didn't seem to be going away. John had left Dean in charge and in the most remote location he could find to keep them safe, but he couldn't even handle this. _

_"We're out of tissue clean necks" Five-year-old Sam reasoned._

_"Kleenex"_

_"Oh" Sam responded with a sneeze that speckled Dean's hand with globs of spit._

_"Snot ball…GROSS," Dean grumbled._

_"Sorry."_

_Dean really wasn't listening, he already thinking of the next step for him. Sam's temperature was still too high and showed no signs of stopping. To compound the problem, John was absent and not due back for three more days. The food should have lasted for two weeks, but it was only a week later and the cupboards were bare. Heck, the duffels were bare too, except for one candy bar left from his personal stash._

_He knew his father never imagined Sam being this sick, but it deleted them down fast. Sam had thrown up over half of the grub in a few day, but Dean kept trying to get him to eat. Sam had to get his strength up. After the second day of Sam's illness, Dean rationed himself. He tried desperately to reach John, but their Dad was just out of range. With no contact, he finally stopped eating anything for the past two days, saving it for Sam. _

_It was about as bleak as Dean could imagine, but that was when the temperature dropped further. As the latest blizzard set in, the pipes carrying water to the cabin had frozen tight, forcing Dean to melt snow for water. _

_"Dean, I think I'm hungry." Sam asked weakly._

_"Here." Dean dug in his pocket and handed his little brother the bar._

_Sammy reached out and gleefully opened the chocolate and devoured it in a few bites. Looking back at Dean, he realized his brother hadn't gotten any and was immediately sorry he had been so greedy. "I should've shared it with you."_

_"It's alright dude, I already had mine." Dean lied not wanting his little brother to feel bad. He was sick enough and if Sam could hold that chocolate bar down, it would all be worth it. "I did the same thing with mine."_

_Dean looked so sincere Sam couldn't help believing him, which earned Dena a hug. Dean humored Sam and hugged him back, in the slightest way possible. _

_Suddenly Sam threw up everything he ate and now things were really desperate. "Dean." Sammy said with a stuffed nose and a scratchy throat. "I'm dying." Sam groaned, falling back spread-eagle on the ugly paisley blanket._

_"Shut up, you are not dying. I've got you some water and pills." He didn't really have any pills, but Sam was content that the Tic-tacs Dean called pills helped him. "Take your pills and go to sleep, okay? It's just a cold, you'll get over it."_

_The coughing turned to gasping and Sam straightened slowly. Another round of coughing seized him. Sweat kept pouring off of him, wetting his clothes and hair. With a whimper, he nodded. His head pounded again and his stomach flip-flopped. _

_"Swallow these before you pass out and drink your water." Dean presented two pale white small mints and a full cup of water from his latest snow melt. He __propped up Sam's head, placing the faux medicine in Sam's mouth, putting the cup to Sam's lips, and tipping it so he could drink. Sam took small sips, his eyes on Dean._

_ "Is Dad coming back to take me to the doctor?" the small boy asked as he lay back down._

_"I don't know, Sammy," Dean said, obviously scared, "But we have to be brave?" He managed to say stronger._

_Sam nodded, "For Dad." _

_"Yeah." _

_Sam closed his eyes and coughed with enough force to lift his head from the pillow. Thick and heavy mucus bubbled out of his lungs, leaving a sour taste in his throat. He swallowed it and panted through his mouth. When he was done, he was limp, shivering, and exhausted. "It hurts."_

_"You'd feel a lot better if you'd go to sleep."_

_"Thank Dean." Sam grunted even as he lay on his back, throwing his arm over his eyes. A moment of silence passed and Sam relaxed, his eyes still closed. He was so incredibly tired. "I'm sorry."_

_"For what?" _

_Unconsciousness pulled at him and Sam fought to keep above the darkness. "For sick.."_

_"Not your fault. When you go to sleep, I'm going to go out? Okay?" _

_"Don't go."_

_"I'm going look out for Dad." Dean lied, he was going to see if he could find food or help. Sam was beyond anything he could do to make him better and if John didn't come back for days, they would starve. Surely, with all his Dad taught him, he could find some animal to bring back. He already had his own gun and this time it meant survival for them both. _

_"Where ya goin' ?" Sam asked_

_"I won't be far. So, if you don't see me, don't worry. I'll be close."__ Dean replied focusing on her task at hand. "I'll make sure the fire is going, but you have to stay in bed and stay away from it. I wan't you to swear on your comic books that I got ya."_

_Sam hugged his brother again, arms encircled her waist. "Don't go."_

_"I won't be gone long. Now swear." Dean returned the hug fully, for Sam's sake he thought, but it did help to ease his apprehension._

_"Swear. When will ya be back?"_

_"In a bit," he said, but what he meant to say was I won't abandon you. _


	3. Frozen

_Dean didn't have time to mess around. Already, the wait for the snow storm to stop made him impatient to get food and get back, but he was relieved that Sam slept peacefully for at least two hours. When the snow died down, he gathered his gun and bundled up as best he could. As he closed the door and ventured out into the frozen mountains, he knew he had to move fast. Sam would worry if he woke up and he was still alone. Plus, it was freakin' cold._

_Distantly, he hoped he would run into his Dad, even if it meant extra chores or a beating. Not that John ever raised a hand to him, but this might be the topper to get that punishment. He may get in trouble, but getting Sam well was the priority. Still, he knew it wasn't really an option. John was secure in thinking he had left them with no worries, so there was no urgency to draw him back. If Dean was going to get help or food, he'd have find it for himself._

_Dean moved through the woods with the agility of a seasoned solider. He learned his lessons well, watching the way John reacted during a hunt, learning to be silent when he tracked. Yet, there was nothing moving, not even a bird in the angry sky. He traced over the ground now, looking for tracks, finding none. He counted the steps he moved in his head, keeping the cabin in distant view. He only planned to go so far, but without any luck, he dared to move further. Soon the cabin disappeared from his glance._

_He sensed a storm was coming and wanted to run back to Sam. He didn't notice his own fright, as he was lost in his single purpose. He had to take care of Sammy- always take care of Sammy. He couldn't lose anyone else. He had to keep everyone safe. Deeper and Deeper into the wilderness, he endured the cold, not even noticing as dark cloud extinguished the light of the moon, not even caring when new snowfall covered his head as he walked._

_The footing was rough- hard and frozen. He wandered until he couldn't go anymore. Shortly, he was cold, wet, and shivering, which meant he had to find shelter or go back soon. If he sheltered, Sam would freak out and come out in this mess. He couldn't bear that thought. _

_He looked all around for any signs of life, thinking he would give his arm for a winter berry bush. Then, he saw a flicker of the faintest lights. Silently he approached towards the source, light meant life and help. He felt himself going numb with cold unable to feel his hands and feet. A short while later a small cabin came into clear view. His feet led him to the door, where he collapsed from the cold, no longer able to stand up straight. He sat down with his knees propped up in the air and put his head in his hands, relieved and letting the warmth of the fire within seep to him from the front door crack. He reached out a hand to knock when he heard the shattering of glass within. _

* * *

The moment became distant as a sharp pain volted inside his chest. Dean's eyes fluttered open to harsh light, a series of vague shadows and shapes before his cloudy eyes. When his hearing returned, the steady beep sound of a heart monitor screamed at him. "I'm dying," he tried to say, but his lips never moved. His body, however, arched high as his chest was shocked again.

* * *

Sam sat in the darkest part of the waiting room, moving to the spot just below a burned out light tube. Minutes before he stared at the blinking fluorescent light tube as it flickered to death. When it did, he couldn't help but feel it was an omen of what could be happening to his brother. So many times he could have lost Dean- hell, should have lost his brother. Even he began to wonder when they wouldn't escape by some slim margin. So it felt fitting to move to the darkest place and dwell there as it was the dark that always looked for them.

When he closed his eyes, it wasn't for fatigue, although he was incredibly drained. He tested the world, thinking that each time he opened his eyes the doctor would come out and tell him Dean is going to be okay. However, there was no movement. He started to think these people were letting Dean lay back there without anyone helping him. They could have just parked him somewhere for all Sam knew. Silently he counted the times he blinked, letting himself get angrier with each one. About the time he counted to a hundred, he found Bobby staring down at him.

"Waitin' sucks, don't it?"

Sam wanted to tell his friend he had a firm grasp on the obvious, but it sounded cold when he said it in his head. Bobby was only trying to break the stress, so Sam smiled a little. "Is it wrong to bust in those doors."

"Yeah, I think so." He sat in the adjacent chair. "By this time, Dean has four nurse's numbers and is working on his fifth. We should let him play the sympathy card for all it's worth."

A chuckle, which almost descended into a cry, escaped Sam's lips. "He would never forgive me for that."

"Ah... he would, but you would be get a guilt trip about it until hell froze over."

"Thanks Bobby."

"For What?"

"uh… I… Everything." He pushed out on a laugh.

"That's my job."

"You should kick the hell out of your high school counselor."

"Yeah, his guidance sucked alright."

"Why you got stuck with us has to be a low point in your life. When you found us in that cabin..."

"I didn't."

"Uh… wait... you found Dean and I…when I got…"

"No, Dean found me and led me right to you."

"What was Dean…"

"What do you think he was…"

"For me."

"Got it and on the first guess."

"Still, you came with him and saved us."

"Actually, he saved me too. Twice during that if you want to count. Course one of those was really his fault. Damn kid had a punch on him even then."

"That's what he meant in the room back there."

"Just don't tell him that he really did apologize for it. Can't let him think too highly of himself."

With that Sam felt calmer, knowing he didn't have to wait or fight alone. "After all this, you can tell us both about it. I'll even buy the beers!"

"You're on."

Yet, Bobby would never tell the full story, especially the deepest, most painful, and personal part.

* * *

**_December 1989- C_****_asper, Wyoming_**

_"Nine years!" Bobby screamed at the empty cabin, carving another notch in his shot gun. He had grown accustomed to keeping track of his kills on his 22 shotgun, even if it wasn't the killing instrument. At least, it helped pass the time and made him feel he accomplished something. That was the lie he told himself anyway. _

_"Nine years, four month, one week, ten hours and 59 seconds" He corrected his first statement. That was how long he had been completely alone- how long ago he killed his wife. He dropped his gun, and swigged on an almost empty bottle of whiskey. "Nine years, four month, one week, and thirteen hours." He bitterly screamed next. That was how long ago his light-his son- had been murdered by the thing that possessed his wife. He never talked about it to anyone. Who would listen anyway? There were hunters out there and he had met them, but he lost everything that day. How could you explain that your wife bludgeoned your only son like a sadistic piñata? Since then he had been in a haze, feeling like a robot on automatically: Wake, eat, sleep, and kill._

_His eyes closed slowly as saw his son's grey green eyes. The color wasn't important; it was the gentleness that he always seemed to have. Marcus was just one of those kids that took charge and made sure he was nice to everyone. Bobby just loved being a father. There were just no words to describe it, even when he had a kid with more guts and heart than sense. Tears ran down his cheeks when the memories came to him. The way his messy sandy blond hair grew too fast and got in his eyes. He got that from Susan. "Damn she was a good woman." He needed to hear the sound of her voice, needed her laugh, and her smile. Hell, he wanted to hear her snore._

_Bobby let out a deep shudder, rubbing at his face. The thought of his lost family brought a growl to his throat, hatred accumulating deep inside him. "THOSE BASTARDS KILLED MY WIFE!" His innocent wife. "I KILLED HER! How could I kill my own blood?" Then he focused again on Marcus. They both were gone. When he found them, the blank, black eyes in his wife's sockets told him Sue was already gone, but now he wondered if he could have saved her._

_Sometimes, he wished the demons took him that day. His family was too perfect to be buried in a dark earth hole somewhere. Old friends told him to accept it and move on, but the only thing he moved away from was them. Accept it, mourn, and move on, but that was easier said than done. Suddenly, his anger spiked and he tossed the now empty whiskey bottle against the far cabin wall, rejoicing at the shatter sound._


	4. Steal

**Author's note: Howdy everyone. Sorry I haven't updated the multiple stories of late. Life got really crazy and then I lost my computer. It crashed like the Titanic. I lost all of my outlines (and more-cries) and had to redo it all. So, I finally got a bit accomplished. I got a new computer. It's so freaking sweet! Hope you enjoy. **

* * *

The smooth tile floors reflected the overhead fluorescent lights, giving them a glow halo. For all the times Sam prayed, it was hard not to be bitter that his family had suffered so much and have fought so hard to end up here. At this point Sam would take divine intervention, even if it came in the form of Della Reese or Roma Downey. He sunk further back into the darkness of his spot in the waiting room, like his presence could hold back any dark coming for Dean.

He imagined his brother walking out of the operating room as if this was no big deal, making fun of them for acting like overprotective mother hens. The image in his mind was light and happy; maybe he could make that into being if he thought hard enough. The perfect picture of his brother formed in the recesses of his wishes, walking on the luminescent shined floors, letting the reflection shine on him like a halo of health and happiness. But its all a mirage of hope. Nothing has changed since they arrived.

By now, Sam knows the emergency room routine. There had been enough Winchester emergencies to last a thousand life times. Sam knows the nurse at the station will only have yes or no answers for him until the doctor updates them. So far, that information has been they are working on him and its critical. And the fact Dean has been on the operating table for such a significant time doesn't mean anything good. "He's got to be okay."

"Can't keep that boy down. Bet he has ten numbers by now or gone to the local watering hole with a few… he is just….." Bobby tried his best not to dwell on the worry building in his own mind.

"Yeah, and someone is dancin' on the pool table right now." Sam said unconvincingly and sadly as he could. He would pay anything if that could be the truth. It wasn't. Dean was hurting and neither of them could stop it. And the "he'll be okay" scenarios weren't helping either of them really. It was something to say to pass the time, instead of ripping off the doors to get to him.

The time ticked onward, the only thing changing was the way Sam grew accustomed to the smell of hospital disinfectant, the pungent odor becoming second nature. When he finally glanced at Bobby again, the man he knew looked pensive and distant. Yet, somehow their "adoptive uncle" knew the he was watching him.

"Thinking of some darker days." He said. "Can't help it."

"Have there been darker?" Sam asked.

"Hard to gage that. Haven't really figured out what is the lesser of the evils."

The conversation might have continued had the doctor not exited the operation room. His stark blue scrubs were covered by so much blood it was hard to determine what color it should be. The Asian man, exhausted and relieved the procedure was over, pulled the coverings off his head and mouth, letting out a sigh before he began.

"GOD NO!" Sam gasped.

Bobby nudged Sam's shoulder, bracing the boy for bad news. Truth was he couldn't bear to hear it either.

"I don't know how he is alive, but he fought really hard. We lost him on the table once, but managed to pull him back. I want you to be ready..."

"For what? What's wrong with HIM?"

"There was severe blunt force trauma to the chest cavity. Looks like someone or something struck him extremely hard, causing internal bleeding."

"He said someone jumped and tried to mug him on the way home last night... fended him off and came on home." Bobby lied, covering the fact the injury had to happen last night when they took down the werewolf. Sam and Bobby had heard the smack when Dean diverted the beast's attention, but no one thought it was that serious.

"He suffered from hemothorax. There was a puncture to his right lung, a cracked rib jammed in there, filled it with blood. The pressure in the pleural cavity stressed the mediastinum and trachea. We had to intubate him to supply oxygen and put in a chest tube to relieve the pressure."

"What does that mean for recovery?" Sam demanded.

"There's a slew of complications from empyema, fever, chest pain, cough, sweating and shortness of breath. We repaired the wound, but he lost a lot of blood and his blood pressure was too low. It stressed his heart to tachycardia- too fast for too long with little pressure. I'm afraid..." the doctor stopped, obviously sympathic to the news he was delivering. "He slipped into a coma right after we pulled him back with the paddles."

"No.. He can't be like this... never again..."

"Easy, Sam." Bobby urged, trying to keep the doctor in the dark about some of the finer and deadlier scares of the hunting world. The last thing anyone needed was a cop wondering why Dean had so many close calls.

"We have him in ICU with a Mannitol drip to keep down swelling. He is not suffering."

"OF COURSE HE IS! DO YOU THINK THIS IS NORMAL?" Sam yelled, his eyes flaring with a dark bitterness like never before.

"Easy Sam… sorry doc…."

"I understand. We'll do all we can for him. Once we get him settled, you can see him. I'm sure it will help to know you are nearby."

* * *

When Sam entered the room he thought he had entered the scene of a really bad sci-fi movie. The vision of all the tubes, machines, wires and needles sprouting in and out of his brother made him wonder where machine began and his brother began. At this moment, it looked like machine was taking over the human side like a bastardized form of Borg.

All he knew was seeing a tube down his brother's throat again broke his heart. It was as if fate had finally came back round to finish Dean off. "Do you think he is in pain?"

"No... The doctors took care of him. I think he is taking a long nap and when he wakes up... he'll be annoyed at the fuss we made. He just needs time to recover."

"That sounded almost believable."

"Boy ain't checkin' out yet. Always been a determined little hellion."

Somewhere deep inside, Dean heard them. "I'm here!" He screamed, but no sound came from his lips. It was as if he were trapped in his own body, unable to do anything about it.

"I promised him I would never give up on him and I won't." Sam said with a bit more conviction than he felt. "You hear me Dean!'

"Sammy! I hear you. Listen to me!"

"I won't give up."

"There's my fighters. Those are the boys I know." Bobby confirmed. "We'll be right here until he wakes up."

_

* * *

_

**...1989...**

_Bobby heard a gentle thump outside his door when his bottle crashed. He grabbed the shotgun, moving slowly towards the door, pushing it open with his acquired hunting skills. "Who's there?" Bobby demanded, cocking his gun. Surely, the ghoul he stalked earlier was long dead and they don't travel in packs. He had made sure that damn thing paid it. "I said who's there!?"_

_The wind whipped large clumps of snow into his drunk-warm face. He stared out into the dark, squinting. At first, he didn't see anyone or anything to aim his favorite weapon at, but when a figure of a boy stumbled out an inch from behind a tree, his only thought was that he was imagining an image of his long dead son. But, he knows no real kid could survive out here for long. The agony of seeing the form ate away at him. Thoughts of his wife and child were never far from his mind; however this had to be the worse. He could just imagine Mark and he playing a game of hide and seek. He could just run over to that tree and swing his son around in the air, and declare victory. His wife would laugh and call him foolish, reminding him of the days they met._

_In all these years, he'd thought he'd get is life back together. But what kind of life could he have when the only thing he saw as he closed his eyes was stabbing his wife and the dead body of his child. His mind replayed the surprised look in his wife's eyes as the demon left her dying body. When he was sure that his mind played another trick on him, he went back inside, collapsed on his bed, and waited for his previous drinking to take him to a dreamless sleep._

_

* * *

__Dean waited patiently, albeit frozenly, for the man to reappear. He knew adults could be dangerous and that one didn't seem like the friendly type, especially when his "how do you do" was a shotgun. Still Dean had his own weapon, but he proceeded with caution. He doubted he would find anyone else in this area, even though he didn't imagine this man would be a big help. He peered through the window, looking at the warmth inside, noting the happily drunk and passed out person. He wanted to ignore it, but something was telling him to go inside. Dean moved quietly towards the cabin, not wanting to call anymore attention to himself. He froze in fear as the door creaked open, placing a hand on his shotgun just in case. _

_Instantly, he noticed the provisions_ _on the butcher block table. It was all there, waiting to give substance to Sam, like a beacon to save. He remembered what his mother always told him about stealing, but he knows Sam needs this to survive. He put his gun in his waist band, the weapon sticking out too far, but he didn't mind the jab in his ribs. He started to shove food in his backpack, hoping Sam was still asleep and he would make it back in time to have dinner on the table. _

_The pack was half filled when the worse happened. Dean stopped dead in his tracks, a strange feeling came over him, then a gunshot tore through the air. Instinctively he dove when the sound echoed in the cabin and debris from the wood ceiling fell. As he slowly rose, he came face to face with the wrath of the man._

_"What the hell you doing!" Bobby demanded, bumping his head into a light bulb hanging above the table, seeing for the first time that his intruder is a child. _

_Dean didn't respond, knowing in a second the man could fire and kill him. Thoughts of how that would affect Sam circled in his mind, like a caged wildcat. His eyes flashed fear at that moment._

_Bobby may have had a few, but he knew he scared the boy as soon as he yelled. Sure he was pissed to have an intruder, but a lone kid wandering these woods and stealing food was a new one on him. He would have stern words for the youngin's parents once he got answers from his new companion. "What you doin round here?" He demanded in a more even tone. _

_Dean stayed silent, glaring at the man. _

_"Answer me, boy." _

_Dean tried to regain calm, reaching for his own shotgun fast and unexpectedly. He let the arch go wide, not trying to hurt the man, but distract him. He didn't have a chance in a fight with a much bigger opponent. Although, John had taught him well, and for a nine year old he thought he was pretty worldly, he wasn't insane or cocky enough to fight an adult just yet. The bullet hit his glassy bull's-eye, the overhead light bulb shattering glass and darkness over his would be captor. _

_"Dagnabbit!" Bobby cried out in surprise, hearing the boy take off in a run and slam the door, leaving with part of Bobby's provisions with him. _

_The cold stabbed through Dean's jacket in a few seconds when he bolted from the cabin. The backpack beating against his back feels like it is bruising him with every flop. Dean headed to the treeline and ran faster than he ever had. He could still hear the man cursing and knew he had to lose him in the wilderness. He couldn't lead the man towards his brother. Hoping to find a place to lose his tagalong, he ran and ran and ran. The forest grew darker by the second, thick and hazy with falling snow. _

_Behind him, he heard noises matching his pace in a full run, closing in on him. The man pursuing was surprisingly light on his feet. Bobby spied the tiny body in the distance, a dark speck against the white snow. His steps trudged faster when he felt the temperature drop further. As angry as he was, he set aside that for a later time. A kid stood no chance in the subzero temperatures. _

_The youngster ran like hell was nipping at his heels. Dean whipped round a fallen log, and he disappeared from view momentarily, speeding towards a thicket of trees, hoping his pursuer would pass him. He scrambled under some roots up heaved on a almost fallen tree, blending in as best he could. His breathing was hard after his quick sprint, almost breathless from the cold and exertion. He'd only meant to go so far, but now he was scared to death. He was getting lost and he had to keep his focus on how to get back to his little brother._

_He pushed back further and found only air, feeling like he was losing the safety of the ground. Snow had obscured the fact he was on a mountain side with a sheer drop. Now he knew why the tree had uprooted. When this revelation hit him, he knew he was close to Sam. They had passed this on the way to the cabin. A couple of miles more and he would be safe. At least luck was on his side now._

_He curled inside the strong root twists and turns as the blizzard continued, burying his shoes under a fresh coat of white powder. His clothing did very little to shield him from the cold. Shivering, he felt the hairs on his arms and neck stand on end from the goose bumps that plagued his skin. The sensation made him try to grip the gun, thinking it was a warning of danger finding him, but his hands refused to obey the will. Danger had slithered upon him the moment he stopped running, bringing an icy grip upon him. _

_He gave up on the gun, feeling numbness in his fingers. Instead he jutted his hands under his armpits, hoping to keep the numb extremities warm. For a moment, he felt the sensation of warming, but the comfort he felt would be short lived. His body was feeding off his heat to keep the major organs warm and functioning. The longer he lingered in this frozen wasteland, the more likely it was he would never return._


	5. Fallen

**A week later...**

Bobby walked silently down the hallway of the hospital yet again, so many more times than he wanted to count these past few days. Glancing down, he imagined his footfalls making imprints in the high gloss floor, digging out a map route that he already knew by sense memory. He could closed his eyes and still his feet would take him to the only hospital room that matter. Pretty soon, he would have to get a change of address card and list the hospital as his primary residence. As if to confirm those thoughts, a nurse nodded with a sympathetic smile as she walked by. He did his best to smile in turn, but right now he wanted to get hot food in Sam's belly. One injured Winchester was bad enough; he didn't want to look over both of them in hospital beds.

He turned down the longest corridor. Today he took the long way around, passing by the nursery ward and thinking of how kids could make you love them with a single glance. The delay wasn't long, but it provided him strength to bluff optimism.

After a few more sluggish steps, he pushed open a door, which was slightly ajar. His head entered the room first, as if casing the place and assessing the situation. When all that he heard was the steady drip of the IV, the hiss of breathing tube, and the steady whine of the heart monitor, he allowed the rest of his body to follow. For the millionth time, he saw Sam sitting in the chair, his face a mask of worry, looking over Dean for even the tiniest change. His dark hair was matted down, unkempt. His face shined with wetness, possibly a mix of sweat and tears. In general, there was a sense of disarray about him that was far from normal. He might have looked better if a crowd at Woodstock used him as a doormat. Bobby slipped into the chair next to him and squeezed his shoulder. "Anything?"

"No…"

"Here, I got you some grub."

"Not hungry." A cold, empty voice noted.

"Humor an old man and eat something."

"Not hungry."

"Tough. This time I'm not asking." He forced the warm carton of noodles in Sam's unsuspecting hand, waiting until there was a recognition that Bobby wasn't about to back down.

Finally, Sam surrendered and carefully accepted the paper carton, opened it, and frowned. He would have protested more, but his stomach growled so loudly, Bobby would not let that slide. He was right, of course, as a Bobby shoved a fork inside the container as a sign to dig in or else.

After a few careful fork pokes, Sam took a nibble, not really caring about taste, texture, or the fact he was even eating. His eyes glanced down at numerous tubes and wires keeping Dean going. He couldn't quite accept the fact a feeding tube supplied the only mean's for Dean's survival's. The air in his brother's lungs had to pump from a machine. He longed for just one thing to be controlled by Dean. Finally, he spoke. "This shouldn't have happened. He stared blankly. "This wasn't supposed to happen. Back at your place I thought he was just sick… food poisoning...ate some bad burritos... got the flu, but to ….why didn't he say he was hurting?"

"Probably use to having aches and pains. We didn't realize it either until he lost enough blood. But, we got him here. He's got the care he needs."

"Is he really here? I've lost him so many times...how many times do I get..."

"As many as it takes."

"Tell that to him... look at him..."

"You have to..."

"You know the last thing I said to him?"

"It doesn't matter."

"I told him to shut up. He was joking and I was so tired. I told him to shut up…. Now… now he…. I wish he…" Sam's eyes blazed an intense hazel fire.

"I tell him to shut up all the time. It's part of the Winchester charm..."

"I could have listened…. Just one more stupid joke... another smartass comment…. Maybe I would have noticed he was in pain and …"

"Hindsight … the what if game never works….stop blaming yourself."

"For someone who always hated these places, I sure ended up spending a lot of time in hospital. I lost Dad in one, now I'm losing him here too. He never got hurt like this when I was at school."

"Who are you kidding! This is a dangerous game." He sighed in annoyance and kept talking. "I'm sorry Dean got hurt, but this isn't an opportunity to use yourself like a piñata. You want to beat up on someone…. Blame me….. It was my damn hunt!"

"We wanted to help you… like you help us."

"Then I guess we settled that! We can put blame away for some other inappropriate moment."

The beep of the heart monitor echoed inside Sam's ears. "He doesn't deserve this."

"No, he doesn't." Bobby agreed. "But, he would want you to take care of yourself and eat."

Dean lay on the bed, nothing on him but a light hospital gown and a thin sheet. He appeared as if he were sleeping, almost like he might wake up any second and ask for some grub as well. Had his face not held such a vacant expression, Sam might have fooled himself that was true. "He moved his fingers again today."

"I know that's hard. Doc says it's a reflex."

"Sometimes I think it's him trying to reach me, but when it stops…." He swept a hand across his face to stop a tear, but it couldn't stop the thoughts that continued mercilessly. The image of Dean lying supine on the bed with the machines surrounding him as if they mocked the life his brother once had. He touched Dean's finger, expecting it to flinch. The hand was so warm and yet so lifeless at the moment. "I wish he was trying..."

"Me too."

"I am!" Dean uttered in his head. For days now, he tried to reach his little brother from the darkness, if he could get those words out around the breathing tube. At least he could say goodbye to Sam. That might make some part of this world fair. This time, he was sure the reaper would take him and it would be almost too much to ask to say farewell. Yet, not a single word, grunt, or moan would rise in his throat. He likened it to being buried alive in the dark with all the awareness of the world around you, trapped forever- catatonic.

The realization of hearing without control over yourself was more than disconcerting. The only conclusion he had was he already dead and even his soul was confused, it didn't know where to go. Some stupid machine kept him breathing and almost functioning. The worst part is he couldn't reach out and tell them to stop. He could scream for them to let him go.

Sadly, he had been in this position before, been on the precipice of death. He guessed he always lived on borrowed time. Sam told him that he fought a reaper during his last hospital stay, so he had to be moving about in some regards. Right now, he wished to hell he could remember how he did that and how he communicated with his little brother back then. Why was this time different? Why couldn't he leave his body? That Grimm's fairytale kid had accomplished it, so he didn't see any reason why he couldn't do it.

He counted himself lucky, when his hand tried to obey his will. If he thought hard enough, he could jiggle his fingers, but so far, that was it. A euphoric triumph always filled him when he moved, patting out a drum beat of whatever came to mind, all familiar to Sam. Moreover, his senses awakened. The sheets were soft with the palest sent of vanilla, almost like sugar cookies. And if he wasn't mistaken, there was the distinct smell of Chinese from somewhere. "What's the use of knowing all this and not being able to WAKE UP!" He screamed, or tried to scream, but the only listener was him.

"Wake up, Dean….please."

The feeling of anger coursed through him at hearing Sam in anguish. "Why didn't I just open my always running mouth and say I was hurt. But, No you brushed it off. You moron!" He told himself as he wiggled his fingers, feeling a rough palm restraining them.

* * *

**1989……**

Dean's heart pounded in fright when a cold, calloused hand latched onto him and jerked, promoting him none too gently to leave his hiding spot. He made an attempt to move away, but Bobby's grip only tightened. Not prepared to surrender, he fought the man off the best he could, writhing, kicking and squirming for all he was worth. Bobby's stronghold would not yield, no matter how hard Dean flopped and pushed.

At least that was good news, if the kid kept moving, the warmer he would be. Ignoring the assault on his arm, Bobby surmised that the boy must be in deep trouble by now. He guessed it to be at least a few degrees below zero from the numbness to his own flesh. Instantly, he regretted chasing after the boy, leading a weaker person in jeopardy. "You're a feisty one ain't ya. Come out of there, cause I don't want to drag your keister out."

Not even an inch of budge came with the next attempt to retreat away from his captor. He was careful not to pull too hard. He didn't want to risk sliding, or worse falling, off the cliff edge. When it was clear that he wouldn't win this tug of war, he bounded forward. With a feral shout, Dean lunged at Bobby, who jumped back putting some space between them. He tried hard not to laugh at such a wide-eyed kid acting so tough, but that faded when Dean kicked the larger man in the shin.

"Watch it… you little hellion." Bobby laughed. "You're in deep trouble already, but we have to get you out of this cold or..."

Dean closed the space between them in three steps, and his little fists flew rapidly, only to be caught each time easily by the more experienced hunter. In a failed attempt to trip his opponent, Dean pitched forward, stumbling and catching his boot in one of the gnarled tree roots, falling face first into the twisted wood. His nose smacked hard against the bark and his leg bent back at an odd angle. He lay there for a long moment, dazed, hurt, and cold. His nose oozed blood slowly, and his ankle throbbed.

"Whoa! Easy kiddo." Bobby screamed, moving forward like his own child had just fallen off a swing, half expecting some tears. Deep inside a sense of dread and wrongness grew, building as more time passed and no one came to collect or make sure this little guy was okay. Not that this kid didn't seem capable of taking care of business, but still, someone must love this kid or so Bobby hoped. He couldn't let himself believe the boy was alone. He would never leave his own child out here.

Dean lay there for a long moment, dazed and winded. His cream color jacket spatter by blood drips from his nose. He swiped it hard and then pushed forward. Trying to escape, he rolled away from the man lumbering over him. His mind screamed for him to run and get out of there - just do anything to get back to Sam. He managed to pull himself up and leaned against the tree, backing away to get a defensible position. He moved an inch and the man countered, but the small inch alerted him that his ankle was already swelling. "No..." he muttered, terrified, thinking Sam and he were going to die out here. Waves of pain shot up from the injured joint. For the moment, the cold would keep the inflammation down and manageable. If he got away quickly, he may still be able to accomplish a half-run.

Suddenly, even the basic training his father instilled in him kicked in. Before, he tried hard not to think of the man as an enemy. He knew stealing was wrong and thought it was fair the guy was angry. Now, it was survival and the odds were stacked against him. The charging Dean reached his opponent, raising his injured foot as he jumped. His tiny arm already arched back and twisted into an upward punch to Bobby's face. Following that attack, he ripped a hard right to the jaw. He balanced on one foot, nursing the injury by keeping it raised in the air.

Bobby jumped back from shock, as well the pain that Dean inflicted. The boy was way tougher than he looked, but he caught a glimpse of the boy's eyes- soft, scared, and worried. He had brought himself to this. He screamed at a boy, looking for food. Now, he was in the wilderness being beaten up by a preteen. Another blow struck into his abdomen. He stumbled momentarily, but his recovery was too quick and too precise. "Hold on! I ain't…" Bobby reasoned as tiny fist flew like miniature cannonballs.

When Dean's opponent back away, he mistook it as a sign that he was winning. Still too young in his training, he didn't realize Bobby was backing away to let him calm down. The man was strong enough to take him down, but wasn't trying. One punch after another struck as the older man retreated until it was one hit too many. While he was busy watching Dean, Bobby didn't realize where his feet were leading. Dean railed his fist back as hard as he could, landing it square to the mouth. Bobby stumbled, his foot finding the emptiness of air below him. Suddenly, his body descended over the cliff edge.


	6. Edge

* * *

_**Casper, Wyoming 1989...**_

_"ARRHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" His voice graveled, sounding as guff as a saw ripping thru a red wood. He yelled out in surprise as he descended, his hands reaching, grasping in the darkness for anything that would stop his velocity over the edge. Finally, his fingers scraped and clung to a half broken branch. Thankfully, he didn't get far, so the ledge was only a short distance away. Only a foothold stood between him and getting to safety, but he couldn't find a single crag this black night._

_He didn't even want to fathom how sheer the drop was. He glanced down to pure blackness. As the night approached it only increased the endless, pitch of nothing below him. The upward view looked no better. The ebony snow reflected back at him, falling in a never-ending glare. Blind. He was totally blind no matter which way he turned. His options were few at the moment. He could only hold on so long, supporting his dead weight on some half rotten branch. The other possibilities were less desirable: He would fall and die. Or fall, not die, and bleed to death. Or fall, not die, and freeze to death. All sounded like losing propositions to him. The worst part was that he would never know if the boy survived. Bobby guessed he couldn't do anything right when it came to other humans. All he had were failure, loss, and emptiness. _

_At least demons were easy to understand- all they had to do was die. And maybe that was all he had given this kid too-death. If he had just let the boy have the food, maybe they all would be some place safe and warm now. Once again, he had failed another child. _

_For the first time in a long time, he regretted something other than his dead wife and child. Moreover, he had gotten sloppy. He never went to battle sloppy, but when the grief came, he was a wreck. And now, when it may have really counted, his failings had caused a child to be harmed. He should have reached out to the boy, not chased him, and found a way to not be in this mess. But no, not him; he had to yell and chase. He chided his actions. Only when he sobered up enough to see it was a child and only when he drove the boy out into the night, did he know how truly depraved he had become. His existence had narrowed to life on the road: the next town, the next job, and the next kill. He used the alcohol to deaden him enough to get something that sometimes resembled sleep. A lone wolf existence- that is what he had, not letting anything or anyone get in his way. He's too determined to make the dark pay for the blood it's claimed. Revenge was the only thing keeping him from losing his sanity, if it wasn't already gone._

_When it seemed all hope was lost, he felt something graze his hand, searching in the dark, skittering like a frightened animal might if it was burrowing in fear. Distantly, he heard a tiny voice repeat the words no and please like a record stuck on an endless grove. Bobby risked it the next time the object grazed him, grabbing onto it. He heard a sudden intake gasp, realizing it was a small hand. "KID?"_

_"Don't let go... please... don't fall… _

_The boy's voice trembled with regret as he desperately tugged on the heavier man. Bobby could sense fear in the voice. It was impossible that the child could save a man at least twice his size. But, it might just give him a chance to save himself. Bobby took the opportunity to get a stronger hold on the branch, getting ready to scramble over the edge on mostly his own power. A sudden snap echoed. It was the last thing he heard as his hands slipped away from the boy trying to save him._

**Present day…..**

"You should get some sleep."

"Not sleepy." Sam responded, blankly.

"Didn't we have this same argument about the food before? I say do something, you say no..."

"I'm not tired." Sam said sternly.

"Hmmm…you look like a reject from dawn of the dead. Guess you could make a few bucks with that. When Dean gets out of this, he'll think you're the one that needs some time in ICU."

"That's not funny."

"Who's kiddin'. Go stretch out in the waiting room. I'll keep watch. Someone has to keep him in line, otherwise he'll get us all kicked out of here." This time he was joking, attempting to give Sam some hope. It couldn't hurt to remind Sam that Dean often glided through scraps and fights like nothing could ever touch him.

"No, I want to stay."

"Suit yourself. At least put your feet up and kick back." Sam barely left this room at all. Bobby felt he could at least remind Sam to take care of himself now and again. "Or I could get Nurse Ratchet out there to slip you a roofie."

"No one calls them that anymore."

"I do. It's what all the cool kids say." He smiled, but gave Sam a concerned look. "Plus that nurse is scary enough to scare chrome off a truck. Come to think of it, her face probably melt steel and iron. You don't want me to form that alliance, now do ya?"

Sam laughed as he leaned back in his chair. "We'll get her number for Dean."

"Yeah, he'll be so grateful."

He laughed again, and then suddenly cried tears. "I can't believe I'm joking and he's…"

"Hey…hey…hey….You need a break before you crack. Lean back and at least breathe for a few. I swear sometimes you boys don't have enough sense to pour piss out of a boot, with the directions on the bottom. Rest, now….go on..."

This time without argument, he took Bobby's advice. He leaned back and watched as the pumping apparatus pushed up and down, breathing life. Intensifying his gaze on the machine breathing for his brother, the methodical hiss had started to sound soft and normal now. As he listened, he could almost close his eyes and think it was Dean softly snoring. Without notice, he let the sound drift him to sleep as it had so many time before.

Bobby didn't move or speak for the longest of times, but finally got up, grabbed his jacket, wrapping it around Sam. His hand scruffed Sam's mop of hair as he walked away. Plopping back in the chair, he took up watch over a man, who was loved like his own son. Turning his attention to Dean, he scrunched his mouth until it almost disappeared. A little smile tried to play at his lips, but his voice kept it from forming.

"We'll kiddo. It's just you and me for a bit. Finally got Sam to nod off. Think you can put up with a cankerous old fart for a while? Hmmm?" When he noticed a finger twitch, he couldn't help but feel as Sam did. Maybe, just maybe, Dean was really listening. "Wish you weren't so close to the edge on this one." His hand slid upwards, pushing about a fallen spike of Dean's hair, long since soft. "You fight for us. Okay? Fight, if you can."

Dead- dying- Gone- Such an ugly concept to take in. This was worse- Dean laying here without thought or movement. Bobby had already heard the whispers from nurses and doctor. Things like I'm so sorry, not much I can do, and it's no use, which was a tad better than the "I'm so sorry" look on people's faces. It made him wonder if Dean was still alive and if the man he knew was simply gone.

He didn't know what to feel: Pain, anger, resentment, and disappointment. A piece of him felt like a lost father again, wanting to cry over a lost son. A piece of him wanted to be strong for Sam. Another piece wanted to hold on to hope. Dean would want Bobby and Sam to live, move on. That's who he was after all, the one who kept all of them going- The heart of a messed up family- A broken, beautiful boy who became a broken, stronger man.

Deep within Dean, there seemed to be a pressure squeezing his chest. His fingers flinched faster, tapping out the only thing he could think of that Bobby might understand. With all the power he possessed in him, he scratched out three short- three slow and long- three short. SOS… SOS…

"I'm here. Something is wrong, but I'm here. I can't get back." But if Bobby recognized the pattern, he didn't acknowledge it. For a moment Dean wondered if the movement he thought he controlled was really a reflex and there really was no pattern at all. If anyone should figure this out, it was Bobby. He had been a father, a friend, an uncle, a protector, a mentor, and a fighter for as long as Dean had known him. That was saying a lot considering how big of a pain in the ass Dean had been when they met. Bobby made him believe he wasn't really alone. No matter how many times the Winchester family had pissed Bobby off, he was that one person who would stand beside you.

"I never said thank you for barging in my life…." A mist of fondness formed in his eyes. "You found a bitter old man… gave me something I never thought…" He stopped. "Son, you may not make it back this time, so I want you to know….. I want you to know….it's okay to rest now. You deserve it more than anyone and this time I know you'll go to somethin' better. You deserve it… more than anyone……" A tear streamed down Bobby's face, which he quickly wiped away.

* * *

**_1989….._**

_With a sudden gasp, Bobby startled awake, every muscle in his body rigid with the fear of falling. But, he wasn't moving any more. He groaned, realizing for the first time he was on the cold ground, still alive and hopefully not dying. The back of his head sure felt like he was alive and in pain. When he opened his eyes fully, he noticed a small pin-light flashing in his eyes. He immediately wanted to grab for the source noticing for the first time two fingers had been splinted on his left hand with twigs and some type of fabric._

_As he reaches out again, he finds the same small hand in his grip. In the glow of the light, he witnesses the shadow of an alarmed face. Dean squirmed back, dropping the small light. Moving takes everything Dean has, but he rolled over, getting a knee under him to push him further away. Run, roll, climb and get out of here, his brain screamed. Somehow he is frozen by guilt. Trying to gather his scattered wits, he pushed back with his good leg._

_In the few moments it took for Bobby to recover from the near death, Dean had climbed up his flannel over shirt, which he had used to devise a makeshift rope. The kid had escaped a few feet. His little hands flew one over the other until he scrambled back over the ledge._

_For the first time, Bobby realized he had fallen, dropping to a small outcropping. And to confuse matters more, the young boy, who was scared out of his wits, had enough forethought to do a proper field dressing on his broken fingers. He rose slowly and tested the shirt to see if it would hold his weight, finding it to be securely attached for him to climb._

_When he rose to the top, he hit the ground in a sprawl, half falling on Dean, who reacted by squirming away. Bobby tried to close the space between them, reaching for the pack as a peace offering. "LET GO!" Dean demanded, ready to urgently fight. A small arm grabbed it first, jerking it like it was treasure with one hand and the other fist rolled up in a tiny circle, ready for battle. Hobbling the boy moved, trying to run._

_Bobby froze, watching the panic on the boy's face. This was getting him nowhere. "GO ON THEN! GET OUT OF HERE!" He yelled, thinking smart for the first time. Chasing the boy was fruitless and obviously dangerous to them both. Given the ankle injury, he could track the boy easily to wherever he may roam. He could find him, kick some parents' asses, and make sure the boy would he safe. After all of that, then he would have time to question how such a boy got out this far and sort out all this confusion._


	7. Wake

**Present Day….One month later**

The minute the nurse returned Dean from testing, Sam bolted inside the room to check on his brother's progress. When the nurse smiled, his gratitude swelled. It had to be good news this time. There was a change…a real change this time.

"I'm sorry." His injuries have healed, but there has been no change in…."

"Go away. Sam said unceremoniously. No argument came as she silently left, clicking the door shut, giving Sam privacy.

The days, all the tensest in Sam's life, zoomed in a blur. He rocked in an almost catatonic state now. They had been in danger before and faced certain death, but nothing compared to watching your brother fade slowly over time. It was horrible enough to thing he could die during the heat of battle, but this was true evil. Even as Dean lingered, there was the annoying and uplifting prospect that element of faith that kept Sam on edge, disappointed, expectant, frantic, curious, terrified, and sickened.

He wondered why he never told his brother why he left-why he never said so many things. How a huge part was the constant fear that his father and brother wouldn't make it back. Then the sacrifices Dean always seemed to make, how he hated them. He had so many other plans and they didn't involve hunting. Now, he thought he should have tied Dean up, forced his brother to leave too. The hunting life had left so many scars, seen and unseen, and no one escaped unscathed.

When he left Stanford that night to find their Dad, he fought the nature to hunt. However, Dean reminded him of why they chose to fight. How they were patriots and not nut jobs. They were there to save as many as they could. And in some small way, he finally saw who his brother was. They couldn't save the entire world, but they could make one small part of it right.

"Samuel?" A man said who had entered unseen while Sam was deep in thought.

"Go away…"

"I'm Father Flannery. I thought you might like to talk."

"I don't."

"It might help you get out…

"I don't need a prayer meeting to tell me this is wrong." Sam was furious. Wrong didn't even begin to cover it. A future without Dean was incomprehensible.

"That's not what I meant"

"I had a friend who once thought like you. Father Jim and it doesn't make him any less dead. He always had the right thing to say. I can just see him spouting some enlightened mumbo jumbo."

"You think religion is useless in these times?"

"I didn't use to, but all I've seen is pain…death… evil…I'm tired of unanswered prayers."

"Sometimes the answer is no."

"If my brother were here, he would tell you to peddle the new age bullshit to someone who cared…like handing out flowers at the airport."

"Don't let this break, you my son."

"I'm not your son."

"I'll pray for your souls, anyway."

"Don't have any soul left! He's lying here dying."

"The Human soul cannot be crushed without your own consent. Your body may be in a thousand different pieces, but the mind can't be stopped. I'll leave you, but if you change your mind…I'll be easy to find."

"I won't."

"Don't give up hope, tiger. Sometimes good things come to those who wait. Especially to those who are willing to fight for what they believe in. Sometimes the good fall. Maybe he is waiting for you to say goodbye or maybe he just needs you to really listen. In the smallest ways, we show each other how connected we really are." Without another word, the priest left.

Sam didn't feel like pondering heady questions of heaven and Hell- good and evil. He only wanted one thing. "Big brother," he said feebly, his speech barely intelligible. Memories, unbidden, flooded back into his psyche. There was too much pain in memories, feeling that they were all each other had. Dean always knew what to say or what to do. Even when he was just a child himself, Dean seemed so strong. When he was small and scared, Dean would search the closets for monsters for him, which may have been affection as well as practical.

The list went on an on: he would bandage all the scraps; Fix dinner; do the laundry; make school lunches; stand up to bullies; go to the library in the rain to get a book for Sam's report; sneak Sam out on a fake hunt, so Sam could see Jenny Lederman; tuck little Sam in; keep Sam safe; take the brunt of John's anger; play peacemaker. "TOO DAMN MUCH!" Sam yelled. For all knowledge in his head, he was powerless to keep his brother out of danger.

And the only thing he had ever promised Dean was he would save him. That empty promise might have seemed obtainable as children, but now it only lead to disappointment. Dean gave him a weakness. His enemies had a way to destroy him as long as Dean existed. The thought of living alone far outweighed any danger they could ever face.

He shook his head, tired of thinking, so he collapsed into his now permanent home, the hospital chair next to Dean's bed. He'd been sitting in the same chair for the past month, repeating "please wake-up".

* * *

**_1989..._**

_Step after step, Dean dragged himself to back to the cabin. Real fear set in when he thought of Sam waiting for him to return. He was going too damn slow. The branch he found and used as a make shift crutch barely helped him move with the pain shooting up his leg. He moaned. He was sure the ankle was only sprained, but then why did he hurt so much? He didn't dare take his boot off and look. He would be screwed if he couldn't get it back on._

_The wind blew strong and fierce, and the cold still gnawed at the eldest Winchester. When it seemed too much, he fell heavily to the ground, his bag flopping from his shoulder to rest beside him, spilling some of its contents in the snow. "Nearly there," he told himself. "Nearly there. Just keep going, don't fall down again…get up."_

_After a few deep breaths had calmed his racing heart, he reached over rummaging around to get his spilled items back in the bag. Suddenly the back-up seemed fuzzy. The world seemed hazy too. It took several attempts to get it all back in because his blurring vision led him to misjudge the distance._

_Finally, he stood, grabbing the handles of his bag. As he tried and failed to lift it, he heard a softer sound- a crack of a twig… or maybe ice breaking. He wasn't sure. He froze as the faint sound captured his attention. Scanning the area around him intently, he looked for the source, but saw nothing. He waited for his vision to clear, peering out for anything in the endless snow. When all was quiet, he sighed and moved on, dragging the pack behind him in the snow, trudging even slower than before._

_The clouds grew more ominous overhead, and the snow hastily gave way to driving bullets of hail. The cold tore through him, shaking him like glass in an earthquake. He grew slower still. For the millionth time, he wished he was more like his father- stronger and smarter and older. Even as the icy stones grew large, golf ball sized, he kept moving, letting them hammer into his back like piercing darts. Still he dragged on, knowing his brother would be a lot more than sick if he stopped. They had to have this food._

_"Ummm..." Dean grunted when a large piece of falling ice whacked him just above his ankle. "Please… please don't let me fail." He whispered to whoever or whatever might listen. The hail only fell harder, now smaller like pellets of rock salt. Finally, the weather let up and he could notice a light in the distance- their cabin. He shook his numb limbs, telling them to keep going. Fire. Safety. Sam- All were waiting for him just a few feet away. Somehow even his foot seemed better- no longer sore. The frozen wasteland had taken the pain sensation from him long ago, but Dean thought it was the joy of succeeding on his solo mission, not that John would be proud of him. He thought hard about how John would punish him for leaving Sam alone, but that didn't matter at the moment. Hope skipped in his heart, while the rest of him froze. The cabin- salvation and Sam- were steps away now. He kept his eyes locked on it as he drew closer, and at long last he stood in front of the door. When he opened it, he shuffled the pack inside, and closed the door as if all of this was over._

_"Dean?" He heard a small voice squeak before the sound of running legs coming right for him. "Dean, you're back!"_

_"Yeah, sorry it took so long." He stood still for a moment, shivering and weary, but waiting for Sam to glomp him like there was no tomorrow. Sam crashed into this torso and he could still feel the heat radiating from Sam. "You feel better?' He let the pack handles fall from his grip and let his hand reassure his little brother._

_"I think."_

_He pushed Sam back, inspecting his little brother. He should have been more concerned with his own condition. Shaking a bit harder, Dean found he couldn't get warm. "I thought I told you to stay in bed until I got back. You didn't go outside, did you?" Dean attempted to make his voice light and not shake, but today had really scared him. His eyes nearly drooped shut from fatigue._

_"No. I did what you said. Are you okay?"_

_"Yeah, just tired and cold." Dean shivered harder, feeling a bit numb. The hems of his pants became soaked in when at little of the snow and ice on him melted._

_"You look like a Smurf. You got blue hands."_

_"It's just cold… but I brought food."_

_"I'm not hungry. It makes me sick."_

_"TUFF! You have to….What was that?" Dean asked._

_"Dunno."_

_"Thought I heard a noise. Did you?"_

_"Nope."_

_"Wait, I hear something," Dean said, dropping the food backpack, carefully glancing out the window. Sam was right at his heels, looking out into the snow covered night._

_"I can't see." Sam complained, standing on his tiptoes._

_Dean lifted his brother high enough to peer out with him. His footing seemed less solid now, while trying to keep a hold of his wiggling little brother without letting him fall._

_"It's white." Sam noted the obvious._

_Dean shivered again, his warmth desperately lost. "Guess, it's nothing." He muttered as he put Sam down, feeling his head swim with dizziness._

_However, they were not alone. Just out of sight, Bobby hunkered below the window, peeking inside at his youthful quarry. He hunkered down until the voices grew softer and moved away from the window._

_"Oh... maybe it's Dad."_

_"Sorry. Not yet." Dean said, just as disappointed._

_Bobby watched, as the elder boy came up behind the smaller one, wrapping tired arms around his middle and directing him away from the window. Definitely brothers, he thought as he watched, realizing why his problem child had fought so hard now. He wasn't just stealing, he was providing for the younger kid._

_He didn't know if he was touched or disturbed that two young ones were out here fending for themselves. The boy he chased, extremely young himself, taking care of one even younger one. The smaller boy couldn't have been more than five or six. "It's official, Singer, you're an stupid asshole." He muttered under his breath. He wouldn't have forgiven himself if that child had gotten in serious danger. He watched as the older one moved sluggishly, looking paler by the second. Almost like a prediction, Dean began to drop like a sack of rocks to the floor._

_"Dean?" Sam cried. "Wake up! Wake up!"_


	8. First Contact

_**1989….**_

_Bobby heaved the cabin door open so fast it rebounded back into him. He pushed it again, frantically dashing towards the boy, just as Dean slumped with wallop upon the floor. His entrance didn't go unnoticed as Sam screamed, balling his own fist in fear. _

_This was his fault, Bobby thought. He had already scared and chased one body out in the frozen tundra and now he was breaking in on another. Yet, berating himself in his mind would do nothing to help. "EASY! I'm a friend." _

_"Leave Dean alone!" Sam bellowed louder, advancing now in an act of defiance and protection._

_"Easy… easy…. I'm here to help. I gave him the food…."_

_"No…" Dean stumbled out of his lips._

_"He's a bit sick….kinda dreaming while he's awake…"_

_Dean moaned to contradict the man's statement, forming little fist that he would never have energy to fly. All of his movements failed, merely a young child's vanity to triumph over extreme odds and his love for his younger brother. If gumption were enough, Dean would have won hands down. There was little hope for any battle at all; Dean's face was ivory pale with a strange tinge of blue on his lips that matched the blueness of his hands._

_Sam jumped back and gave Dean a frightened look, pulling at the unmoving form. "LEAVE US ALONE!" Sam screamed, nodding his head back and forth, desperate to find a way out of this._

_The sound made Bobby's stomach churn. _

_"Run… Sam… hide…" Dean demanded. "Lock the bedroom…" The older boy had crumpled into a tiny ball, barely shivering. His arms were wrapped around his legs, pulled tightly so he could bury his face to his knees. Dean let out small pained whimpers, unaware of what was wrong with him. Suddenly, his body shuddered with small jerks like ice moved in his veins. _

_Yet, Sam didn't retreat, his tiny arms pulled at Dean, not letting go. "What did you do to Dean!" Sammy accused. When Bobby got close enough, Sam wailed the intruder with a fist. "BACK OFF!" Sam yelled, thinking of what Dean would do._

_"Whoa. You two are going to be the death of me, if it doesn't get you first."_

_Sam stopped, shocked. "No… Dean can't die…he…What's wrong with him?" Sammy asked again this time more frightened than angry. _

_Bobby shot a look back at alarmed child before he spoke. "He's sick. He's delirious… Do you know what that is?"_

_"NO… get away!'_

_"It means he's not thinking clearly. Kinda scared for no reason. I'm a friend," Bobby said calmly. "I know you have no reason to trust me, but your brother needs help. I owe him to… You need to help him. He's got too cold. You think you can help me?" Not wanting to frighten the boy, he moved back several paces, offering a moment for some trust to build. He approached cautiously, watching the young face flash confusion._

_Dean's brow furrowed again, his eyelids drooping in concern, glancing at the younger boy as if to order the boy to run. Teary eyed Sam wondered if he could rely on the man, but Bobby was already taking care of Dean before his young mind decided. _

_Bobby didn't have time to argue his intention; perhaps actions would win at least one of these boys over. And if not, at least they would be alive to distrust him. He had to stay rational and in charge. Treatments for of hypothermia spun through his head. _

_He crouched beside the small body, feeling for a pulse, finding it fast and faint. It beat beneath his fingers as he scooped kid up in his arms. Warmth was the first order of business. Bobby strained to hold Dean to him with one arm as he got some of the ice cold clothing off of him, impeded by his broken fingers. _

_"What are you doing to him… please?"_

_"Just going to hug him… okay… "_

_Finally, when he removed the layers down to an undershirt, he shoved the boy close to him, tucking the unresisting boy close. He pressed the boy to his chest and slid the cold hands into the warmth and solace of his underarms, eliciting a quiet moan from Dean. He'd come all this way, and now he couldn't fight Bobby off. _

_"Do you have blankets?" He asked the dumfounded Sam, who looked even younger than he had through the window. _

_"Don't hurt my brother…" Sam begged in a whisper. _

_"I won't. I promise."_

_"Come on, stay with me." Bobby said, realizing the boy had yet to warm up from the cold and was trying to fade on him. The boy's frame was just too small to fight off the fierce hellcats of the cold. "No! You gotta stay awake." Loosening his grip, he moved one arm away, taking off Dean's shoes, checking toes for signs of frostbite. Finding only the swollen ankle, he breathed a sigh. A pair of unfocused eyes glared at Bobby in defiance, confusion, and worry. "Easy now, It's all okay. Can you talk to me?" _

_"Go to Hell…"_

_"That'll work." He chafed and frictioned some warmth into Dean's arms as the shivering became more violent. Dean arched his uncoordinated legs out, slow and labored. He comforted Dean for a second, and then asked Sam for help again. "You want to help your brother? He's hurt bad, but I got here in time. "_

_"Is Dean going to die!? Don't let him….please."_

_"No. We're going to protect him." Bobby said quickly alleviating Sam's fears. "His chest is moving up and down, can you see? That means he's alive, but he needs our help to stay safe, Okay? He's gonna make it, I promise. He'll be right as rain, if we work together. I know you're scared, but I need you to get a blanket."_

_As Sam ran back in another room, Bobby hoped he was obeying. Thankfully, Sam returned, approaching cautiously. Wide eyed, he moved to closer with tears streaming down his face. "Dean?" Sam asked and then turned back to Bobby._

_"Good. Now get close to us, like you're hugging him." Bobby looked down Sam, balanced Dean with his hand, and then gently placed his hand on the back of Sam's heads to draw him closer. "It's okay. I know you're really worried."_

_"Dean, don't leave me."_

_He drew Sam close, enveloping him with his arm as the boy's shoulders began to shake with deep sobs. He ran his fingers in Sam's hair, comforting as best he could. When Sam hugged Dean tight, he covered them both with the blanket- Three peas in a pod nestled under the scratchy blanket. _

_"Don't… Sammy…. Dean frowned slightly, trying to get Sam to run, but his brother only got closer. Sam held Dean with a death grip embrace, burying his face in Dean's shoulder_

_"Easy, now… easy. I'm not going to hurt anyone. You have to stay with us, okay?" The boy lay limply draped across his lap. _

_"He'll be okay… Don't cry… just talk to him… We'll keep him warm and keep him awake." _

_With a violent shiver, Dean winced and let out a roar. It was then he saw the man's hand near Sam. "Don't hurt him… please don't… my fault."_

_"Shush now. That's not important." He told Dean, who seemed less concerned about himself than keeping the young boy safe. "Easy, now… easy…. Talk to us… you can sleep when you get warm."_

_"I'm warm. Dean said I have fevers!" Sam offered. "Can I give it to him?"_

_"You can try." Bobby lied, letting the boy think he was an extra help._

_The elder brother shivered violently. "He's sick… he needs…." Before he could say the word food, his eyes rolled back. He fell still, too tired to fight._

_"DEAN! DEAN! I'm SCARED!" He had to help his brother. The child clumsily pushed his brother's shoulder. "COME BACK. DON'T LEAVE ME!" he blurted out._

_Sam's voice rang out and Dean fought the sleep. "I'm here. I'll always come for you." The last few words were whispered, as he sucked in a breath. Dean moved closer, leaning his head on Sam's. "I won't leave...Why would I…" He groaned, shaking less. _

_Not liking to be afraid in front of his big brother, Sam hung his head. "I'm sorry."_

_"For what?" Bobby asked._

_"I got him in trouble, Didn't I?"_

_"No…you didn't. He brought me here to help you. Don't worry."_

_"Sammy…"_

_"I'm sorry for being sick…"_

_"Don't be stupid. He's not mad at you for that" Bobby reasoned. Why are you so scared, Sammy?" At least he had names to call his new found complications. That was a definite plus to getting some answers. _

_Finally, watery eyes spilled out Sam's darkest fears. "Dad leaves. He hates me. I make him mad. And Dean left…." Sam's eyes swung down again. He stuttered for a moment then fell silent. _

_Biting his lower lip, Dean held back his emotions. Those things made him weak and he had Sam to take care of. He was a grown-up now and this was his problem to fix. Dean swallowed the lump in his throat. "I'll never leave you. Dad's not mad. He's just at work. He has to take care of us. He'll be back. _

_Sam looked at him again, tears filling the edges of his eyes, threatening to fall. "Dad doesn't take care of me. You do." _

_"I always will."_

_"Promise?"_

_"Ppp...promise." Dean smiled, before shivering again. _

_"Forever?"_

_"Yeah, forever," he finished._

_Sam beamed up at Dean first before he smiled at Bobby. "Is he okay now?" _

_"Doing better…. that fever of yours must be extra warm…you're doing a good job." He praised Sam. _

_Dean lifted his head weakly and smiled at his brother. "Be careful…" He opened his mouth and struggled to speak once more, but was silenced by Sam's hushing finger. "Ssshhhh." He ordered Dean as he hugged tighter. "I'll take care of you now." The brothers were crouched down, holding on to each other for dear life._

_Bobby had to marvel at the brothers. How two young ones could be so perceptive and care so much floored him. These fragile children, between life and death out here, only cared about how to be there for each other._


	9. Paper

**_1989…._**

_Shoving the multicolored paper in front of Bobby's face, Sam beamed with pride. "It's Dean, my Dad, and me… Can I drawed you too?"_

_"If you want, Samuel."_

_"Sam. Dad calls me Samuel when I get in trouble."_

_"Do you get in trouble a lot?"_

_"Nah, Dean won't let me." Sam turned towards the chair, resting almost too close to the fire place. His hand fumbled with the crayons, watching as Dean took a deep breath, resting comfortably for many hours now._

_"Here….Why don't you color Dean's shirt red." Trying to keep Sam's attention off of worry, Bobby had to use all his forgotten skills with children. He hoped he could do this right since so far it had been a fiasco. Yet, at the moment, he thought he had it under control, sorta- kinda- he hoped._

_"I like the Blue." He sighed. "Dean knows I like the blue."_

_"Knows all your favorites?"_

_"YEP… and his grilled cheese is the bestest!"_

_"I can see that."_

_"You have to stay in the lines!" Sam informed Bobby as he fumbled with the half broken crayon. "Dean says they're cooler like that!"_

_"Hmmm… Dean is pretty smart."_

_"The smartest. I'm going to be just like him."_

_"Really now?"_

_"Yep."_

_"So you like the same things?"_

_"No."_

_"So what does Dean like?_

_"Comics…uh…He shoots with Dad. I'm not allowed yet."_

_"Do you want to?"_

_"Sometimes. Dean says I'm too young."_

_"You are still a little fella. Seems like a good idea to not grow up too fast."_

_"I'm not little!"_

_"I meant you should have fun... Not worry about grown-up stuff. You want a soda."_

_"I like apple juice."_

_"Dean better wake up soon, or I'm never going to get your favorites right. Anyway, I think I'm all out of juice, but I have a Dr. Pepper in there."_

_Sam thought for a long moment, but Bobby put the drink in front him._

_"Go on, you need to stay hydrated."_

_"Hy-drat…?"_

_"It means… uh…you need to give that fever of yours something to drink or it comes back."_

_"UGH! No, I thought you broke it?"_

_"It broke, but you can never tell." Bobby winked. "That means eating and drinking what I give ya until I say it's all clear."_

_"Is that why you try to make Dean drink?"_

_"Yep, but he is too tired to have soda like you. Guess we'll give him one when he gets up."_

_"Look, I drawed you!"_

_"That's great. Now, you can color my shirt red. I like red."_

_"Dean likes Black and Green!"_

_"Hmmm… those are good too."_

_"Is Dean going to awake up?"_

_"Yeah… he's…"_

_Just then a noise howled outside, sending Sam to bounce up, running for the window. "DAD!"_

_"It's just the wind. You want to talk about your Dad?"_

_"Not supposed to. He works hard."_

_Bobby glanced over at Dean now, much like Sam had. He hadn't figured out too much in the hours he spent with Sam, but one thing was clear- Dean was the center of this universe with all the trapping of responsibility to go along with that title. "Want to help me check on Dean?"_

_"Yeah! Can I?"_

_"Sure… come on."_

_As they approached Dean groaned. The leg they had elevated flinched as if it wanted to kick out against the world. However, he wasn't going to get anywhere if he wanted to fight. The tightly wrapped blanket restricted his movement, keeping him warm as he slept relatively peacefully._

_The sounds of movement in the cabin caused him to stir. When he registered the sound of Sam's voice, he opened his eyes immediately. The first thing he did was look around the room for Sam, finding the man nearby, hovering over him and holding onto Sam's hand. The injured boy startled. Dean held his breath, screwed up his courage and pushed at his covering, flailing his little fists trying to break free. "You get away from him! Don't you touch my brother!" he cried out even startling Sam._

_"EASY!"_

_He screamed, struggling as Bobby grasped him. "Leave him alone you son of a bitch!"_

_"Wow! What a fighter and a mouth." Noticing the anxious look, Bobby quickly attempted to alleviate his fears. "Sam's doing better. You're both going to be okay."_

_"GET BACK!" He readied himself for an attack, but Sam had other ideas in mind. "DEAN! Dddddeeeaaaannnnn!" There was Sam, jumping up and down. His arms out wide like he was trying to be Superman and fly. He launched at Dean, wrapping his small arms tightly around Dean's neck and breathing heavily against his shirt. Dean hugged his brother tight to him, the worry and fright bleeding out of him all in quick succession. _

_"You hurt anywhere?" Dean was baffled by Sam's behavior. All the giggling only confused him further._

_"No. Why are you screaming? Did you have another bad dream? I'm glad you're awake. I was scared!"_

_Patting Sam head, Bobby smiled. "He gave us both us quite a scare."_

_"Guess what!! Bobby and I played checkers! I won three! Then I learned a new rastling move...then I got to drawed….." Sam bumped Dean's hurt ankle when he jumped up fully in the chair._

_Dean winced, feeling the tender, stiff joint condemn him with pain, sending his breathing to shallow gasps of pain. Small beads of sweat formed on his face._

_Bobby knelt down, feeling Sam's forehead. "I think you need to stop jumping before you get warm again. You need to taker' easy. You two sure are a couple of roughnecks." Sam grinned, being compared to his big brother. "Why don't you get down and then get Dean some stew, eh?"_

_"It's yummy. Better than yours." He informed Dean, happily, running for the table._

_"Let's have a look at that ankle…." Dean's eyes followed Sam's movement. "He's fine." When he shifted the blanket away and touched the injury, Dean not only glared at him in distrust, he gasped and cried out, knocking the hand away._

_"STEW!" Sam yelled, splashing some from his bowl as he handed it to Bobby._

_"Good job. Go on now, get outta here, so I can have a talk with your brother." He sat the bowl down, hearing Dean's stomach growl with just a smell. Happily, Sam stopped bouncing, but he hung closer than Bobby was aware. "Thought I told you to skedaddle!"_

_"Don't… he didn't do anything," he sounded more confused than angry. "Don't hurt him."_

_Bobby raised his eyebrow at the response but said nothing more about it. "I won't hurt him._

_"Sam's sick…..he needed food…."_

_"He's taken care of. I need to look at you."_

_"I don't need your help."_

_"You stole from me, Remember?"_

_"I'll pay you for it, when my Dad…"_

_"I don't want your money. I have something else in mind."_

_"Yes, sir." He said dejected, waiting for whatever consequences that came. "Don't let Sam see you punish me." Dean glanced over at Sam and smiled, really smiled._

_Bobby didn't know why he felt so different after the first battle with this little boy. He suddenly felt the gush of hope brush inside him when Dean smiled. "Fine… I won't let him see…" he whispered. "Stay still and I won't let the youngin' watch." Bobby moved his uninjured hand towards his new companion_

_Dean's eyes closed, expecting a blow or a smack, but the pain only registered in his injury. Suddenly, he felt some one pull on his arm. When he opened his eyes, Sam had touched him, trying to take away Dean's pain with wishful thinking. He spoke louder. "Go play Sam. I'll be okay."_

_"I'm sorry, I know it hurts. I think it's a bad sprain, but I don't want you moving it. I don't plan on harmin' either of you boys. So you want to tell me how you boys got all the way out here?" The question wasn't answered, so Bobby continued. "Reckon your parents will be worried about you two." He gave the boy a thoughtful look._

_"No, sir." Dean shrugged and looked down, trying not to cry out in pain. His ankle throbbed and the movement only made it worse._

_Tough kid, Bobby thought. "How old are you?" He softened his voice, trying to connect with the boy._

_"OLD!"_

_"Almost Nine." Sam said, peering from behind Bobby, eyes intent or watching over Dean. Neither had notice the young boy eavesdropping again._

_"I'll get you boys home…if you…" Bobby tussled Sam's hair, letting him in the conversation_

_"Don't have one! It's gone" Dean hissed._

_"Hey, what's wrong, kid?"_

_"It's nothing," he said softer._

_"Our house burned." Sam offered innocently._

_"Shut up, Sam. It's none of his business." Dean spoke with a frightened voice._

_Something was wrong with that kid, and Bobby knew it had nothing to do being trapped in this cabin. "Go on and eat." He ordered. "You too, he told Sam. You're still in recovery." He held the bowl out until Dean had no choice but to take it, and then shuffled Sam off to Dean's backpack. The younger boy pointed to different items in the bag, deciding on a granola bar._

_Sam stopped and gathered his drawing, all the while nibbling at the wrapper of his bar._

_"Here." Bobby offered, opening and removing the plastic covering and handing it back to Sam. He paused, scuffed Sam's hair again, and smiled in amusement. When he turned back to Dean, he noticed a smile on the boy's face. He acted like he didn't notice at all, but maybe- just maybe- he could reach these boys. He might have failed his own, but now he had learned a few things. No one deserved the pain he saw in that boy's eyes a moment ago._

_Before he finished his thoughts, Sam giggled and hugged Bobby's legs. Seconds later, Sam approached Dean carefully this time, wanting to be close to his big brother. His bar and drawings were clutched in his chubby paws. I made it for you! Wanna see?" Sam bounced in front of the chair. His eyes gleamed with happiness, mending health, and excitement. _

_Dean couldn't help but grin. "Yeah, dude"_

_"You like it?"_

_"It's awesome." _

_Sam smile hopefully then looked tentative._

_"Don't be scared," he told Sam, watching their new found companion as he said it. Dean didn't trust any adult, except his dad. "Come on, you can sit by me."_

_Before he had a chance to jump, Bobby lifted him into the seat, leaving both of them alone. These boys needed time and there was way more going on. For now, it was best to let them open up on their own time. Sam had been easier to crack, but there was something about the older one that made him uneasy and still glad at the same time. Until he could figure out what it was, he would have to learn patience._

_"Thanks!" Sam yelled at Bobby. The young boy nestled closer to Dean, who picked at the stew, jutting the spoon in and out before taking a bite. "Share?" He offered up his granola bar._

_"Nah.. You eat… I have mine." Dean let out a sigh of relief, seeing the pinkness in Sam's face._

_"Share, please?" Sam frowned, breaking off a piece, holding it out so long Dean had to take it. Sam was a quick leaner and mimicked Bobby's movements from before perfectly._

_He crumbled so easily to Sam's demands. "Just this piece, deal?"_

_"DEAL!" Sam said in triumph, glad that he remembered to share. His hands crumbled the drawing on Dean's lap, pointing out all the cool features of his new masterpiece._

* * *

**Present Day…**

The electric static, stagnant of crinkling pages consumed the small office of Dr. Ng. The same worn out shuffling of Dean's chart that occurred everyday only made Sam disgusted. He couldn't believe anything new could be gleaned by reading the same damn information, day in and day out. Yet he wondered why they were called into the office as the doctor tore through the chart in front of Sam and Bobby. "I'm afraid the last scans don't show signs of improvement in his brain function. I have collaborated with colleagues and we feel it is highly likely he will not pull out of this. I wanted to prepare…"

"You don't know my brother!"

"I'm sorry…. I really hoped for better news…."

"Stop saying you're SORRYY!" Sam fumed.

"Take it easy." Bobby put a hand on Sam's shoulder. "We aren't giving up. "

"Actually, that is what I am here to tell you. I can't decide what is right for you and your family. Dean is not capable anymore of making this decision. I'm afraid that right has fallen to you and it's a decision I know that is exceptionally difficult. I presume you know him best and will know what he wants. "

"Right now the life support system is keeping him alive, functioning. We can maintain him indefinitely. But, I really believe he is in an irreversible coma."

"Nice way to say Brain dead."

"We can legally declare him clinically dead, but it's up to you to let us remove the machines. I want you to have the facts so you can do that."

"You have to know, doc, we ain't givin' up on him." Bobby confirmed.

"I understand and I'm not asking you to. I wish all my patients recovered and lead wonderful lives. I really hope Dean is one of them, but I can only give my informed opinion."

"Then, you're wrong." Sam said bitterly.

"I hope to God I am." He offered empathically. "Comas generally last a few days or at most weeks. Only a few go on to last years. I am afraid all test results are leading me to believe that Dean is going into a vegetative state."

"So because he's in a deep coma, you want to write him off."

"A deeper coma doesn't mean a lesser chance of recovery. Some people come out of deep comas, while others in mild ones never improve."

"If anyone can wake up, it's Dean." Sam said.

"When you find a test to measure that boy's stubbornness, you'll know why we can't cut him loose. What's going on with him? If you can't find any change… what damage is keeping him out?"

"The brain is a complex machine. The underlying cause of the coma is the improper functioning of the Reticular formation. It's the area of the brain that helps regulate the autonomic nervous system for such processes as respiration rate and heart rate. But it also controls our behaviors, such as sleeping, eating, consciousness, pain, walking, urination, eating."

"So Dean's stop functioning?"

"Yes and no"

"What the hell does that mean?" Sam asked.

"In most cases we see slow to no activity, but Dean's is on Mach 50. The best we can figure is the connection to translate that activity to function is broken."


	10. Discovery

**Present Day...**

Sam's bones almost ripped out of his skin when a bound book skittered and slammed on the hospital room floor. Seconds later, feet shuffled heavily, squealing rubber boot soles against the stark, super waxed floor. Sam's eyes snapped open, finding the only change in the room was Bobby gathering scattered papers from the laminate flooring.

"Sorry, I was just going throfugh some stuff. Tried to balance too much stuff."

"WHERE THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN!"

"Trying to find a way to save Dean. And since you drifted off, I thought I'd let you sleep." The seasoned hunter stole a brief look at Sam before focusing more on the brightly colored paper from the stacks of information he gathered. "Took at trip to my place to collect a few things." He quickly stuffed the crayon drawing among the other papers in his possession before Sam had a chance to look at it.

"Good of you to abandon us."

"Who blew out your pilot light? You seriously need to get a grip."

"Go to…"

"Hell? Don't you think Dean paid that price already! We just got him back and you know how that affected him. You sure that's those are words you want to say to me."

"I….I didn't… I JUST GOT HIM BACK!"

"Think that makes my point. You're wound so tight, you've got no choice but to snap." Having no intentions of spending the rest of his life tip-toeing around Sam's mood or trying not to piss him off, Bobby knew that was going to be almost impossible. The days turned to weeks turned to months. The longer Dean lingered in this state, Sam dwindled too. "But, I managed to get some work done. I owe it to y'all to at least try."

"Why do you care! You don't owe us!" Sam's voice sharpened.

"Sure I do."

"I'm pretty sure you repaid dad a million times for whatever…" Sam held Bobby's stare and waited for a reply.

"Don't owe your dad anything." Watching Sam cope was every bit as painful as watching Dean cope with everything at such a young age. It had been exceptionally hard, even for a seasoned hunter like Bobby who'd seen enough pain to harden him. Still even in the early days, he had no immunity to the anguish of that lost child. "It was always for you and Dean. I'm repaying a debt from years ago. Now, we need to focus on what we need to do for your brother."

"THEY WANT ME TO TURN OFF THE MACHINE!! How can I do that?"

"What would Dean want? I…. I…."

"He's in there! I know it…. He …He has to be."

"I ran some things and did some research…Nobody has seen anything remotely like this…. No comas like it in recorded medical journals…heck even online… I couldn't find a single damn thing remotely like it. None have been like this."

"So you learned nothing. That's a big help!"

Ignoring the bitter, forlorn tone of Sam's voice, he continued. "Found some research on doctors doing process Oriented Coma Work. Couple of psychotherapists think coma patients are capable of subtle signals to the outside world- sometimes barely. We just need to see what ways Dean tries."

"But he doesn't move…. Blink or anything."

"He's moved his fingers."

"Reflexes…" The youngest Winchester reasoned. "How will this wake him UP?"

"If we can make contact maybe we can reach a decision."

"THERE IS NO DECISION. This is not your fight"

"It's not… since when? Hmmm. And we have other means available to us. I found this local guy, named Wain Etchers- a psychic."

"You looked for psychics to help Dean?"

"No… found an article where he helped some family with coma patients when I was doing the research. Name kept popping up. … Thought we would give it a try since it's not too farfetched for us."

"How do you know this guy is credible?'

"Did a background. It was all on the up and up. Multiple stories where this guy helped the cops, kidnapped victim…so I gave him a call. Searched his names and got more hits than if I looked for porn. I know…"

"Just say it, you think Dean's gone."

"No. This coma stinks to me… it just feels wrong. Can't you feel it? I just can't believe he would get this bad and not…."

"It's been wrong since the beginning and I don't know how to help him…"

"Let's try to find out."

_

* * *

_

**_December 1989- 3 days later…_**

_"Where is your family, Bobby?" Sam asked innocently._

_"Gone…it's just me."_

_"Dean, I have an idea….Help me spell…" He leaned closer, whispering some secret plan, excitedly. His little body almost bouncing with shakes of happiness._

_"You're not giving that to him."_

_"Yeppers."_

_"I said no."_

_"Spell it, please." Sam begged._

_"Fine, but I said no." Dean scribbled words on the page as Sam whispered. "Happy?"_

_"Yes. Can I give…"_

_"No…" Dean folded the colored paper, shoving it in his pocket._

_"But, I wanna…_

_"What about you boys? Where's the rest of your family?"_

_Dean eyed him suspiciously. "Around."_

_"Dad and us."_

_"Sam, shut your pie hole." Dean ordered, handing Sam another piece of paper to color._

_"Why?"_

_"Cause I said so."_

_Bobby raised his hands in a surrendering gesture. Ever since he came to cabin, Dean and he had been in a kind of dance. He tolerated Bobby's presence, but was not thrilled with that prospect. At times it seemed he might warm up, mainly when Sam pulled the cuteness, but the next second Dean was distant and challenging. It seemed the closer Bobby tried to get, the farther away Dean wanted him._

_He could feel the tension radiate whenever he got too close physically or asked too many questions. Mainly Bobby gave Dean a wide berth, except when necessary. He didn't know what he was going to do when it came time to haul these boys out of here. The more time that passed, it seemed that their father wasn't going to come home. Secretly, he wondered if the man didn't just up and dump them._

_"But, he's our friend."_

_"No, he's not." The elder boy looked pointedly at Sam, who squirmed under the scrutiny and shifted slightly closer to Dean to gain approval. He whispered, "But… but he doesn't have anyone either. I like him. He plays with me."_

_"You know what happened when Dad trusted another adult." Dean muttered back._

_"I member."_

_"Remember," Dean corrected._

_"I'm sorry."_

_"It's okay. We have to rely on each other."_

_"I still like him."_

_"Well, I don't."_

_"Yes, you do."_

_"Stow it."_

_Trying hard not to chuckle, Bobby took position in the farthest corner of the room, sitting quietly. After a few day, he had a chance to explore the cabin unnoticed, finding little of interest save one thing. He silently cracked open a handwritten journal, reading the bound book he found stuffed underneath a mattress. As amused as he had been by the brother's slight disagreement, he was horrified by the words on these pages; and he couldn't help but let out a quiet and painful sob. The Winchester boys didn't seem to notice. His eyes flew over the pages in disbelief, finding darkness and evil splattered on the pages. Worse, it told of the damage these things did to the Winchester family._

_The more he read, the more he sank in despair remembering Marcus. Instantly, his mind translated that if Marcus lived through his mother's demonic possession, than his child would be in pain like Dean. His mind reeled at how wrong he had been. This child, hurt and lost, still had the drive for hope, even after going through all the things splayed upon the pages of this journal. How could he ignore hope when it was all this kid had? This world had let sweet son and darling wife bleed to death in his arms and left this child to struggle in pain daily._

_Suddenly he realized why these kids were hidden in some back woods cabin and why they were so resistant to outsiders. The damn demons, the one who took his family or one just like it, had stolen these boy's lives. How they kept any innocence at all was the greatest miracle Bobby had ever seen. Through all that pain and bitterness, they still had love for life. Then a worse thought clamored inside the crevices of his mind. If their father went after one of these creatures, than he may not be coming back for a real reason. Sam's and Dean's father may have met a sticky end._

_His mind reeled about what he would do if the man never showed up. Surely, if he turned in two lost kids, that would mean separation, even if it was only for a short while. Dean would take to that like fire to gasoline. He couldn't let that happen. If he knew- learned- one thing, those boys were lost without each other. Whatever it took, he wouldn't let them suffer that final injustice. Lost in thought, Bobby didn't notice Dean and Sam approaching._

_"Why are you crying?" Sam asked, reaching out as Dean hobbled after him on his injured leg, pulling Sam back._

_"Cause I know what happened to you now. I know about you mother." His voice rang like a beacon of calm._

_"SHUT UP! You don't know anything!" Dean screamed bitterly._

_"Mom died."_

_"But the dem…"_

_"SHUT UP! Sam's he's a liar!"_

_Holding up John's journal, Bobby reasoned. "It's okay. I read…"_

_All Dean did was stare, froze in fear as he advanced towards Bobby. There was a petrified expression on his face, followed by water from his eyes and a hitch in his breath. By the time he reached the man, he was crying bitterly in pain from more than his ankle "Sam, get out of here!"_

_"But, Dean!"_

_"GET TO BED NOW!" His scream shattered louder than anything Dean had ever said. Fright stained his words._

_Crying and flying to obey Dean, Sam took off confused, hurt, and disappointed that he did something wrong._

_"SHUT THE DOOR!" When the door closed, suddenly Dean's voice changed from frightened to angry. "My dad will kill you for this."_

_"You're dad… he's out here looking for something. He's got to be crazy to do it in these storms."_

_"He's not crazy."_

_"The stuff in here... your Dad…"_

_"I know he isn't."_

_"It's real "_

_"Hold on… hold on spitfire."_

_"I saw it too... you leave my Dad…" Dean opened his mouth to say more, but shut it with a grimace and a gulp, that the words he just said pained him greatly._

_"You saw her?"_

_"DON'T TELL DAD! If you even say anything to Sam, I'll kill you."_

_Bobby looked back at Dean, who was talking a bigger game than he would ever be capable of. The tough guy image he tried so hard to maintain had slipped away and all Bobby could see was a hurt and vulnerable boy who wanted to make it all better for his family._

_"THAT BELONGS TO DAD!" Dean made a grab for the book, ripping it from Bobby's hands, falling in the process. Dean's mind closed off from the real world, leaving only his father's basic instructions. Inside a voice told him to keep their secrets and don't let anyone in. It was a common defense that had helped him survive many horrible things almost intact. But even that training was failing, and it meant that he was on the edge of acting like a trapped animal. No one before knew Dean's most guarded secret and part of it had just slipped too easily from his lips. Sam was right, Dean was hopeful to trust again and this man seemed like a friend. He knew better, told himself- told Sam- that adults meant trouble. But, for some reason Dean wanted someone to be his friend. He had never had one since his mother died. That's what he got for letting his guard down. Now, he had to protect all he had in this world._

_When the hunter tried to help Dean get up from the floor, he would have no part of it. He had let his mother down and he'd be damned if he let anyone else get hurt. "DON'T TOUCH ME!" he yelled animalistic as he crawled on the floor, kicking out wildly, clutching the journal. While his mind screamed to protect his family at all cost, his body was fueled by desperate adrenaline. _

_The strangled, pained voice of the child had been so unexpected that Bobby went momentarily dumb struck as he watched a small boy madly scamper away from him. "It's alright, you're safe. I know about the things out there. How they destroy everything they touch." He tried to reassure as calmly as he could. Bobby had opened up a hornet's nest. "I'm not going to hurt you," he repeated calmly, taking a step closer to him._

_Dean swung out a skillful fist and shouted, "Stay away! Don't touch me!"_

_"I know it hurts. Believe me, I know."_

_"SHUT UP!"_

_Bobby froze, watching the boy flee towards Sam's bedroom. _

_Quickly a small boy peered out now. "Dean? I'm sorry."_

_The older boy wobbled to his feet, glancing from Sam to Bobby, both with too many questions on their faces. With as much speed as he could muster, he ran, scrambling towards the closet, slamming it shut to block out not only things he didn't want to answer, but the pain he felt closing in on him again. _


	11. Connection

**Present Day...**

The thin layer of wax on the crumble paper faded until the words were just smudges, but Bobby traced each word with his finger tip. If anyone in the hunting world saw how sentimental he got over a piece of crayon colored paper, they would laugh him out of the business. He was damned sure no demon would fear him again. Yet, he couldn't bear the thought of not having that drawing that two little Winchesters had given to him or the meaning behind it.

"Now, I am sure that things are not so bad." A voice said, approaching him.

Blindly, he answered, not really thinking of anything but the item in his hand. "Huh? No... Well, yeah it is, life is just so damned..." He stopped looking up finally, noticing the priest. "Oh! Sorry padre..."

"I've heard much worse language in my days. Plus, in my youth I raised a little cane myself. Just don't alert the Pope or I'm out of a job."

"Hate to argue, but I'm sure it's not like the tales I have."

"You'd be surprised. I'm Father Flanery."

"Bobby."

"Are you here for someone in your family?"

"Not precisely. The boys aren't really mine."

"But you love them as such?"

"Dean's not mine."

"Hmmm... you seem to care about him enough."

"That I do, and since his real Dad died, it's been tougher on him."

"I get the sense that the father and you were oil and vinegar."

"More like piss and vinegar. We rarely agreed on those boys, but we were close friends. The type of guy you would fill with a load of buckshot in his ass then offer him a beer. But those boys… they kept it interesting. And Dean…hufffpmh…boy was always special. Stronger than anyone, but he could never see that in himself."

"So why are you out here alone?"

"His kid brother, Sammy... he... he's got his daddy's..."

"Piss and vinegar."

"And then some. Not that he'll admit that. Really it's just too much stress. We just got Dean back. Boy went through hell..." Bobby said with an ironic dry wit. "So, Sam and I are just snappin'."

"You know, I'm sure Sam and his father appreciated you more than they can ever say. When we go to the other side, it's so easy to see where we went wrong and the words we should have said. I'm sure they just never found the right time to say it."

"They did once... Well Sam and Dean did." Bobby sighed. "I suppose I am a big softie for this." He hands the paper to the priest.

Laughing heartily, the priest smiled. "Ahhh... not so much of a softie... the love of a child is precious. How old were they when they did this?"

"Five and Nine."

"And now?"

"Feels like they should be hundred with all that has happened."

"What battle is he fighting at the moment?" The priest asked.

"Who knows with that boy, but medically he's in a coma."

"Is that the young man in room 313?"

"Yeah... he's..." He stopped, noticing the father's odd expression. "What?"

"Hmmm...Winchester. I had a short conversation with a dark haired one. He was not really in the mood for guidance. I'm guessing that might be the vinegar."

"Yeah, he'd be that one. Has his moments though. Dang kid makes it hard to stay mad at him.

* * *

**_1989..._**

_Sam curled in the bed, pulled the blanket over him, hid from everything around him, and cried silently. His small mind raced with so many emotions, he didn't even have the thoughts to move. He lay quietly, under a lush brown bedspread, hiding his head under the covers, peeking only his eyes and nose out._

_"Hey?" Bobby asked softly. "You okay?"_

_"No."_

_"Me neither."_

_"Dean hates me."_

_"No. He's…." Bobby stuttered, thinking hard on how to comfort a kid barely in kindergarten. "He... Dean's hurting right now. I don't think he's really mad at you."_

_"But he never yells. Dad does."_

_"I... I wish I knew all the answers, but Dean has been hurt before... hasn't he?"_

_"Uh... I'm not allowed to…"_

_"Does your Dad hurt you?"_

_"No."_

_"Does he hurt Dean?"_

_"No."_

_"But someone has?" Bobby gently lowered himself to look into Sam's eyes and then pulled the blanket away from the crying boy._

_Sam relaxed a little, but he was squirming, trying not to cry anymore, but at the same time his eyes leaked. He shook his head, finally confirming Bobby's suspicions._

_"Dad use to leave us with people, but Dean got hurt."_

_"What hurt him?"_

_"A bad person. I got him in trouble."_

_So, you are now on your own?"_

_"Yeah. Just me and Dean. But Dean doesn't like me anymore."_

_"I know one thing. That boy loves you more than anything."_

_"Really?" Sam sniffled._

_"Yeah. He's just upset."_

_"Really?"_

_"Yeah. Just needs some time to sort it out. And remember he was sick and hurt, so that is still affecting him."_

_"Aff...afeet?"_

_"It means... he's not... uhh…. Uh….YOUR FEVER! Remember when you still felt bad, but you were feeling a bit better. Kinda like that."_

_"Oh."_

_"I think having his book upset him more. It's my fault. So don't cry okay?"_

_"It's Dad's. We aren't supposed to touch it."_

_"Do you know what it's about?"_

_"Dean won't tell me. He says to mind my own beesywax."_

_"Does Dean know what's in there?"_

_"Uh-huh...he reads it alot, but don't tell Dad."_

_"Why not? What will your Dad do?"_

_"Get really mad and turn red like this!" Sam held his breath until his cheeks turned a bright pink._

_"Alright... alright!" Bobby chuckled. "Breathe now."_

_"And then Dean has bad dreams."_

_"Is Dean having the nightmares again?"_

_"Yeah and they are really, really, really, really bad. They make him cry. He cries like you... He said he didn't and I was dreamin, but I sawed him. He didn't want to, but..."_

_"What does he do when he has those bad dreams?"_

_"He tells me to go back to sleep."_

_"What are the dreams about?"_

_"Dunno...Mom, I guess."_

_"Does he ever tell you?"_

_"He says I'm too little."_

_"He yells for Mom at sleep time. Sometimes Dad comes and tells him to stop it. After that makes him cry too. He said it didn't but I sawed it."_

_"I think Dean is missing his mom alot. Do you miss her?"_

_"Dunno. Bobby?"_

_"Yeah, bud."_

_"You sure Dean loves me?"_

_"As sure as rain comes from the sky."_

_"It's snowing."_

_"Well, that too."_

_Sam bounded upward, grasping Bobby's neck in a hug. "Thanks."_

_"What's that for?"_

_"Cause."_

_"Alright then... sounds good enough to me."_

_"One day I'm going to the big brother and help Dean to be happy."_

_"Dean will always be your big brother. You'll never be as big as him."_

_"Uh-huh. I can do it. I'll be taller and smart enough to take care of him, so he won't have to cry."_

_"If anyone can, I bet you will. How about you get to sleep right now? hmmmmm?"_

_"But, Dean..."_

_"I'll take care of him. You trust me?"_

_"Yeah. I like you alot."_

_"Can you make Dean lik..."_

_"Dean likes you too. He says no, but he does."_

_"I'll just have to trust you then." Bobby winked as he gently pushed Sam back to the bed and pillow._

_After a great yawn and a twinge of apprehension on his face, Sam bit his lower lip before he spoke again. "Do you think my Dad's coming back?"_

_"I can't tell you what you're father's been up to but I think he's trying to protect you."_

_"What if he doesn't come back?"_

_"I don't know. Wish to God I did, but... I'll make sure you and Dean make it...together."_

_"Prom..."_

_"That's more than a promise."_

* * *

**Present Day…**

"Oh, excuse me. I was looking for a Mr. Singer's room?" The man ran a hand through his salt and pepper hair, acting a bit lost.

"He's not here." Sam said blankly.

"I'm here to help him with his son I believe."

"Bobby never had kids."

"That's a shame. From his tone, I would have made him a dead ringer for the father type."

"He's not... We'll he's the type... but... Who are you?" Sam stumbled over his words.

"Sorry, I guess I should have introduced myself first. Name's Wain.

"You're Etchers."

"The Same. My reputation preceded me. And you're the kid I saw driving that sweet ride this morning. Bet that is a chic magnet."

"It's my brothers"

"Never would have guessed that. You sure were taking good care of it."

"It's complicated… I guess I want to keep it in the way he would, so when he wakes up...Dean was lost for a while and I kinda… well you get used to being alone and its… hard to accept."

"I understand. I lost both my boys, lots of friends, and the best friend I ever had. Feel kinds stupid to know so damn much and still be so stupid."

"Tell me about it."

"So where is Mr. Singer? And I suppose this young man is Dean."

"Yeah, but you are supposed to have all the sixth sense answers. You tell me"

"A skeptic."

"Not really... but a realistist."

"Okay, you and Bobby had a disagreement. You treated him a bit unfairly."

"But he..."

"Only wanted to help."

"I figured he left cause I mouthed off."

"I think he understands. He just wants to be there because your Dad can't, but he's... he loves you boys"

"Wish my Dad was here. He would know what to do."

"I suspect he's still with ya. Call on him… you never know when he might show up."

"He died."

"But what love he had is forever, if you reach for it."

"All we did was fight. Even that last day. Thing is… I would pay anything to have him back… even if it was just to fight."

"I know the feeling. I was never there much for my boys and it was hard to make amends .You and he row a lot."

"If by a lot you mean every second, then yeah, but I never said goodbye or told him I loved him. I fought with him til the end and the worst part is he knew he was dying. AND I hate him for that and so much other stupid stuff, but just one second with him would be worth it. And I told my brother to shut up before this happened. So the last thing he knew was…"

"You don't think your Dad knew you love him…or do you not think he loved you?

"No, I think we knew… we just didn't know how love anymore. It was harder to fix things than to point out the flaws. Guess we were both stubborn screw ups… But to repeat the same kind of thing with Dean. To not get a chance to say… Something… anything… To be damned to repeat that stupidity."

"Tell him now. And your Dad...That Winchester blood is full of stubborn. Bet he was proud of you boys."

"Wish I could say that for sure."

"Take it from a father, I know."

"SAM! This guy knows our last name. Something's wrong!" Dean tried to scream, but his earthly body locked lips around the breathing tube. "SAM! DAMMIT!"

"Now let's see what we can do about Dean."

"Yeah... yeah. I know he's in there.

"SAM!"

Wain raised his hands, muttered something incomprehensible, touched Dean's forehead and voided his face of any expression. After a few minutes of mumbling under his breath about calling on the northern star and some god names Sam never heard of. Finally, he spoke. "I'm...I'm sorry, but I am getting a blank. Like there's not connection whatsoever."

"No, that's not true."

"It is. I'm afraid you're brother is gone. I've never felt anything like this before."

"SAM!! Think!! He was looking for the last name Singer! Not ours!" His finger tapped hard once. "SAMMY!"

"He can't be gone! GET OUT!!" Sam screamed.

Wain gave Sam a look of condolence. "Give my regards to Mr. Singer. No charge. I can't ask you to pay for something so sad."

"Pay! Get the hell out of here you bottom feeder." Sam pushed the psychic out of the door. "My brother isn't gone. You're just out to make a buck with others misery!" Sam slammed the door of the hospital room, unconcerned if he disturbed anyone else in the ward.

For a few moments, Wain tipped his head, smiled, and gave a handy, reasonable excuse to several onlookers. "He's upset about losing his brother. You'll have to forgive him." After the rational excuse was accepted and people moved on their way, he walked calmly down the hall himself, moving for the far corner. "And he's well on his way to where I need to lead him." As his left foot pivoted, Wain flickered and disappeared.


	12. Unspoken

**NOW…..**

"SAM! Dammit! ARGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHH!" Dean thought, hoping somehow his brain would relay some spark of his will, allowing some reaction in his listless limbs. "ARRRRR….Pay attention!"

"Hey, don't you worry about this." Sam uttered abruptly.

Finally, Dean thought, believing something was finally breaking through. "Freakin' A! It's about time!" If Dean could have jumped for joy, he was sure his legs would have launched him in the stratosphere. Reasoning that Sam got the message, he celebrated. Whatever allowed that, he would sure as hell kiss it later, even if it looked like Jabba the Hut. Or perhaps Sam was still in tune to his psychic powers more than his little brother wanted to admit. Either way, he wasn't about to look a gift horse in the kiester. "That guy, he's bad news. Bobby would never tell our names. What were you thinking? Dude, and you're the smart one!"

"I don't want you to worry about any of this because I'll get you back…" He heard a noise, like a grumble and his speech quickened with hope. "Dean… please… just please." He waited, hearing nothing else. "Damn you, why… why... Why are you…. Please… come back… I'll get you back… No matter what... no matter how long it takes." His mind reeled with all the anger, love, and fear inside of him, coming out as random unexpected bursts.

When Sam shut his eyes for a few seconds to pretend this was all over, he opened them only to focus on the controls of vital monitors. He wasn't sure if Dean could hear him, but he wanted to correct at least one mistake in his life. His father died without knowing anything, but Dean deserved so much better.

"Sonofabitch! " Dean didn't make contact after all. Only a few appropriately timed words seemed like a response. "EARTH TO SAM! ARHHHH... I told you..."

"I made you so many promises… and… and I broke them all and … and you never said anything. Never made me feel like I owed them to you…..You just... you just took care of me."

"It's my job."

"I know you would say it's your job."

"MISS CLEO... Stop reading that and GET THIS! THAT PSYCHIC DUDE IS AFTER US!"

"But… it wasn't that. It wasn't just a job. Guess, I'll never really know why you think you owe me so much, but… it goes both ways."

"We don't have time for this! Something's up… it's all wrong."

"I promised to be there for you forever when I was little and I just up and left you. I promised to help you save Dad, and I couldn't kill that damn demon inside of him. He was right. I should have killed him that night." Sam's eyes swung down to the floor as he bit his lip to keep in tears. He swallowed past the lump in his throat. Tears brimmed the edges of his eyes, threatening to fall.

"It was Dad! Sam don't. What's happened to you!" Dean couldn't imagine where all this guilt came from.

Feeling his insides twist, he rested a hand on Dean's shoulder. "You'd kick my ass for saying it, but look where we are. Dad died and then they took me and took you. If I had killed the damn yellow eyed bastard…" Sam coughed, his throat overly thick. "… You would be here with me. And Dad... Dad would want that more than anything. If he could see me now, how could he forgive me for that? For everything!"

"I'm so sick of hearing that! I put myself in this situation you didn't make me!

"I hesitated and Jake... I let it happen. And then I killed him later. All that compassion just cost you all that pain in hell… and we don't even know… how… who…… If I had just taken that bastard down."

"Then the demon would have broken you! You would have opened that gate! SAMMY! Why can't you see the danger now? You know this as much as I do! LISTEN!"

"Just one fight earlier and you're alive. But, I never learned Dad's lessons, not like you. I had to think I was so much better. What the hell was I thinking? I had to act the compassionate part….."

"THAT'S WHY I… that's why you're my brother. Don't. These things want you to doubt. You're walking into this."

"I'm sorry... when you came back from hell... I... I... Well... I'm sorry I thought it wasn't you. I really wanted it to be you though and then... I...I….I just…. you were... you were back and... "

"GOOD BE PARANOID! That's what I need you to do now."

"I treated you rotten, I know. I got so lost with you gone that I kinda died too. Even locked myself in your car and listened to those damn tapes about a million times." The pain and sorrow, just held in check, slowly started to taint over every word, growing and building as Sam spoke. "I owe you a new Cheap Trick tape… deck kinda ate it….You were gone for only one month then… and I already broke your car." He chuckled, but the laugh was broken with distress. And the damnest thing, I had to fix it. I fixed it… cause…" Sam words shook so hard now, he could barely utter them. "cause that's what you… you would want. Me to take care of her, but… I couldn't do the same for you… And I'm so damn sorry. Now I understand how Dad really felt."

"LISTEN TO ME!!"

"Every time he went out, there was an emptiness waiting for him and I guess I got that too. The first time I saw you back…. From…." Sam gulped. "There was nothing that could get in that place, not even you. And I'm…"

"Sam…don't… Something is using you."

"I'm so sorry I let you die in the first place. If I had been stronger like Dad… like you….I…. I… would have…." Sam wiped a tear away, barely holding any of them in. Regret swelled inside Sam as he wished, not for the first time, that Dean would speak and call him as sissy or pansy for the emotion coming out of his mouth.

Dean concentrated really hard, launching all his thoughts, feelings, and fears to his fingers. He felt his essence pull, trying to crawl out from some an abyss in his own shell. Finally his will obeyed him, and a single his finger thumped twice, harder and stronger than before. "LOOK AT ME! LISTEN TO ME! You are a stupid bastard, you know that! They got you all turned around. THINK BRAINAC!"

Letting his hand fall and reacting to the movement, Sam grasped Dean's hand, squeezing the fingers to a stop the reflex. "I know you are here and I'll find some way to keep you. I won't fail this watch…not this time. I'll make up for whatever they've done to you…. What I've done….Someday."

* * *

**_THEN….._**

_In the shadows of the dimly lit hallway, a slithering shape sidled along the hallway of the Winchester home. At first glance Dean thought it was the nightlight just to the side of Sam's cradle. He jumped out of bed, excitedly, to burst into his little brother's room, full or pride over his newest matchbox car. One day, Sam was going to be big enough to play garage with him and his Daddy and it was his job to prepare Sam for that day. It was an honor he took on with great pride._

_Stubby legs skittered in the hallway, a small skip of happiness for being out of bed. The light above his head flickered, drawing his attention. He stopped out of curiosity more than anything._

_A second later, a dark shadow swirled like smoke and sinister whispers carried. Full of practical fear, Dean arched up his fists, ready to scream for his Daddy if necessary. From inside the hallway, he could just make out murmurs of words. "I see you."_

_He jumped back, hiding in his door frame, peering out into the hallway of his family home. Finally his young heart giggled, seeing the flicker of the TV below. The light flickers and noises coming from the late night movie below, he reasoned. After all that he was scared for nothing. Feeling a bit foolish for acting so childish, he was four after all, almost a grown up according to his Daddy, he settled back on his intentions to see his younger brother._

_"Come out where ever you are" A voice pushed, almost like the words formed on gusts of wind. His adrenalin started pumping as he saw his tall shadow with glowing yellow eyes appear before him._

_"Oh now I have two targets. That bitch'll get what she deserves." he laughed._

_"And Mommy thought it was all safe. You shouldn't be such as nosy boy, Dean," a woman's voice said behind him._

_A hand sprung from the shadows and grabbed him before he could make it to Sam's nursery. It was overpowering him long before he knew the second creature was close. A scream trapped in his throat, refusing to move. His child mind raced with questions and alarm as his heartbeat pumped against his chest. He squirmed in his assailant's grip, struggling weakly to gain his freedom, but the child was pinned to the thing._

_"Have you ever seen true evil, huh kid?" the male said next to Dean's little ear. Painfully, his tiny arms were constricted behind him, bound by the thing with unworldly dominant strength._

_This sweet little thing! I'm sure it's all lollipops and gumdrops. Isn't it sweet pea?"_

_"Da…" His voice stopped, as if he were gagged_

_"No, no, no… Bad boy. You can't speak in class without raising your hand." The yellow eye ridiculed._

_The woman's fingers lingered around the vicinity of Dean's heart and a tingle teased his skin. "So brave…. Pity…"_

_"I thought you liked playthings."_

_Suddenly, his petrified frame was flipped, plummeting and colliding with the perforated wooden floor. His arms were painful flat against the grain, his fingers scratching and raking like a panicked animal. Dean's heart thundered in his ears in a moment of blind panic. An invisible force held him down, pinned like a bug to a windshield._

_"I think we have a scaredy CAT!" A male said. "Do you like my friend? She's just been dying to meet your perfect little family."_

_It was taunting him. Dean tried to snarl in frustration and fight back, but the effort was lost somewhere between thinking it and the signal to his body, which seemed to be ignoring him all together. It felt like an eternity to his young mind "Too bad he's too old."_

_"You can still have some fun. I would never deny my children an opportunity to get a new toy. Never know if you need something really useful later."_

_"Ahh... it's he just a big old softie! Does your momma and dada give in to your little whims? Hmmm?"_

_Without warning, the woman's weight was on his back, pressing downward with a knee, listening to the wheeze it caused as Dean breathed. He felt something searing blinding hot at the small of his back, like a car lighter had been placed on his back._

_"Scream for me. Screams are so beautiful! You want to don't you."_

_"Wait... he can't. Now, that just plain mean. You should be ashamed of yourself. Covert plans, my dear, covert."_

_The demon woman touched him, running her fingertips over the perfectly shaped, burned circle, feeling rather than seeing the child flinch in pain. The thrill of watching the helpless youth falter on the floor beneath the pressure of her body._

_"I think he likes this." The woman smirked. Soon after, smaller shoots of pain, like large staffed needles jabbed at him, just as hot. His flesh sizzled once, then again, and then a third time, slipping something in the flesh at the base of his pajama shirt. Three small points, that would form a perfect triangle if you connect the dots, sizzled in Dean's flesh. He was far from shy about showing the agony he was in, but no sound came from his throat. The most he managed was a strangled groan gurgling and hacking in this throat._

_"What's wrong, little man?" the man demanded, pulling Dean's mop of sundrenched hair up enough to gawk at the torment._

_"D..da…" he said wordlessly. There were deep stabbing marks at the base of his back, throbbing more than they should. Dean whimpered again, but the pain made him too dizzy. The small wounds paralyzed his nerves, making moving nearly impossible. He panicked more, hearing the baby coo._

_Ahh... you want Sam? Don't worry. I'll take care of Sammy for you like he is one of our own." Yellow eyes glinted in front of Dean's face._

_"Doesn't that have a nice ring to it!" The woman said, getting up, leaving Dean on the floor. Neither of the demons bothered to hold him down now._

_His head flopped down like his bones were mushy and unconnected. The disjointed pained movements rocked his shell to ghastly portions until the shivering child seemed a pale effigy of his normal self. He tried to curl his head to his stomach, thinking he could push himself up and get to his father. He cried out as the yellow eye creature covered his mouth._

_"Hushabye. It's over for you."_

_His eyes took on a glossy look. The demon scooped him up with no effort. Dean managed a quiet moan as the demon carried him back to his room, throwing him down, finished with whatever he wanted. He couldn't do anything but stare up at it, and it seemed to be content to stare back at him, smiling and his yellow eyes glowing._

_"Never hurts to hedge your bets my dear. You have to remember that." The yellow eyed thing told her as he left. ""Keep him in line until we have the plan in motion. I have something else to do now ,like Sammy boy."_

_Slowly, he felt a regain of control, but it wasn't quick enough. Sick as the world spun. "D...dadddy" Dean called out weakly, sweating._

_The noise was weak, but strong enough to disturb a cooing baby, who wailed out now. Dean heard his little brother screaming, and he flopped to the floor, letting the world readjust. Soft whimpers escaped his throat._

_The female slid down, staring at the child's eyes with hollow black ones. Now the she-demon sat down on the floor, grabbing him. A moment later, the woman pushed a rough kiss on his small lip, shoving a forceful tongue in his mouth. The laughter in her voice forced all the innocence in his blood to dry up and he struggled to pull away. "You're very special." She mocked._

_Her voice echoed in his head, shivering dark things inside his heart for all eternity that made him want to cry. These things would forever haunt his dreams. Then he heard his mother's scream. Panic ran through him as the scene replayed and guilt played at his emotions._

_The black-eyed woman crouched down and kissed Dean again flippantly on the lips. "Bye, Dean!" Her hollow black eyes glinted with wickedness and she lifted in her head in self assurance. Then she was gone, leaving him rolling on the floor._

_Dean pushed forward, tumbled, and rolled sickly back to his feet running. Flames exploded before his eyes, encasing around his mother's soft curls. Shock stole his voice now, but his legs aimlessly propelled forward. His young eyes engraving the image on the ceiling as the inferno built around his mother. All he can think was to reach him mother and brother, but there wasn't enough time._

_"DAD? " He says weakly, hoping to reach his father someway, rubbing his eyes from the smoke._

_The world shifts to the things that occupy his real nightmare- to a world where he can't save his mom, Sam, or Dad that night. He quaked in his dream, the smoke rolling hotter, filling his lungs. He's trapped. Sam's in his arms, crying, dying. No room to move, nowhere to go."_

_"Mommy! Mommy Please! No! No! NOOOOO!" he cried. "DADDDDDDDDDDYYYYY!!' He slammed against something just before his body jerked and his eyes snapped open taking in his surroundings. His face masked in confusion and panic._


	13. Pain that Binds

**NOW…**

"You sonvabitch." Sam screamed, raising a fist, but he couldn't force himself to deliver a blow. He wasn't really angry with anyone but himself.

As Bobby swung into Dean's hospital room, he stopped dead, confused at Sam's increased anger. "I see you're still bright eyed and bushy tailed."

"That damned psychic! He's a con man and you let..."

"So what? There's others… Dean doesn't need us fighting. So what, we'll try something else. We can play his bangin' music, talk to him… keep fighting for him. Protect him. So Wain was a dead end, does that change things for Dean?"

With a look of utter confusion, Sam's fist raged up, but stopped midair as he looked at Bobby. The room grew quiet as the two men stared at each other.

"But Dean..." Sam tired to reason, sounding more like his five year old self than a mature man. His eyes grew thick with wetness and his body began to tremble. "Earlier, you asked what was wrong with me..."

Bobby wondered where Sam was going and he didn't have to wait long.

"He's been through hell literally… and to get him back now… and for this to happen. I thought I could handle this…I deserve this, not him. He... Do you understand?" Now he had Bobby's full attention. Sam spoke with passion, contempt, and shame. "I don't deserve to be alive... everything! When Dean always gets nothing. I'm so tired of my life and what it has become now."

"Stop it... you know better."

"Should have been… different…"

"Your daddy didn't exactly have a choice with Dean and your brother didn't have a choice either. Dean just kinda had to grow up and face it all when your mom died. But he did his damnedest to make sure we were all lo…. He took care of us all first."

"I… I know and it's not fair." Taking a breath that was obviously meant to steady him, Sam squeezed his face tight, struggling hard to maintain some level of calm. Unfortunately, he was beyond that control. "Why him? He doesn't deserve it. I'm the monster…… I'm the one. The cause for it all! " Sam sobbed, tears welling up in his eyes. He finished softly and weakly, expressing an ache he didn't even fully understand. "He should have let the yellow eyed demon have me."

Bobby pulled the younger man into a protective embrace. "Never... None of us ever would." He said, attempting to take away the buildup of emotions in Sam. He felt shuddered breaths heaving against his collar bone as Sam burrowed his head down.

"I'm the weak one."

"No, you're human."

Sam breathed a sigh of relief and leaned into Bobby's shoulder for a moment of reassurance. "I'm... I'm sorry..."

"Me too."

* * *

**_THEN…_**

_"You've been marked and you'll be mine forever, when I want, when I need it." The she-demons voice echoed from his dream. "And I'm going to let you watch as Mommy dies." The male voice said. Dean shook his head again, horror stricken. "DON'T KILL HER!" he screamed as he lunged at forward, scrapping with all his might. It was so hot in the cramped space, but the seat pouring off of him was not only a result of the heat._

_"Easy now, It was a dream," A voice reasoned. "Come out."_

_Dean flinched, hearing "Come out where ever you are" instead. Inspecting the young boy's eyes made it obvious that Dean wasn't fully in the moment, but in some part of his damaged past._

_"Snap out of it," he said, trying to stay calm. Bobby felt powerless watching the play of emotions on Dean's expressions. Gently, he shook the boy, hoping to help him return from some torment, which Bobby hoped was only a dream, but feared it was far more. "You're safe now, I've got you… You're safe…"_

_Dean groused, snapping out of his thoughts and back to the waking world. The blond startled from his thoughts and sprung away, banging against the closet wall. For a moment, his green eyes darted franticly around unable to focus until he realized his hiding spot had been invaded._

_"Hey take it easy. You're okay. It's just me." He soothed as he slowly advanced towards Dean, taking a hold of the child's arms._

_Swatting the older man away, Dean punched out, deflecting Bobby's attempt. "Leave me alone." He said blankly, a tear leaking involuntarily from his eyes. Still clinging to the panic of his dream world, he lashed out again._

_"That's enough!" Bobby yelled as the child came at him once more. This time he was able to seize and restrain him. All the while, Dean struggled and screamed as if Bobby were tormenting him with a pain that couldn't be described to Bobby's mind. His grip tightened over the struggling arms, bind him close in protection. "Easy now."_

_"NO… no … no… no…no…no…no….stop…no more." Dean repeated on automatic, shaking and breaking down._

_"Kid... Easy."_

_"Don't… please...no...No….no….I…." Dean struggled to say, hyperventilating. Thrashing wildly, he fought to get free, fist flying on Bobby's shoulder and back._

_"Sam told me you got hurt… what happened… who…" Secretly, Bobby wondered just how hurt this little boy had been. And he soon realized that he really had no clue what all this was doing to such a young mind. Dean may look like a little boy, but he's seen enough pain for ten life times. He's a ball of pain trapped in a little body. . He let the child rip from his arms and escape to the safety of the closet._

_"Nothing! NO… no… no….don't …" With a whimper, Dean pushed himself back, still clinging to his fear. His breathing grew faster like he just finished a 10K run in a minute._

_"I saw you flinch. You thought I was going to hurt you. And before…you thought I was gonna punishing you."_

_"No! Shut up. Shut up… Shut UP!"_

_"I would never hurt you. Or Sam. You have to trust me. I know you don't want to, but I do. I know…"_

_"GET OUT!"_

_"I can't. God knows I never imagined this, but…" Bobby hated the reminder of his own son, but it pained him even more to be feeling so close to another. "I could have done you harm a million times by now, you have to trust someone sometime."_

_"I TRUST ME!" Dean screamed, kicking back as if he was prepared for an attack._

_"Someone's hurt you bad."_

_"I'm ok."_

_"You've been in here for hours and then you just started screaming. That doesn't sound like okay."_

_"Leave me alone." Dean bellowed, gathering his father's book to him to protect it._

_"I'm sorry about your Daddy's book, but I didn't mean to upset you. Not like this… I didn't mean to invade your secrets… your pain."_

_"Go away!" Dean pulled his boney knees to his chin, sinking back against the closet wall._

_"That demon did something to you and worse…you've been hurt so many times more."_

_"No. Shut up! Just shut up." Quickly, the young boy wiped a tear away along with the anguish expression on his face, trying to hide behind a tough exterior._

_"And all that dream fuss… You were hurt by something and if I get my guess… more than once. Did the demon hurt you… or something more human?" There it was again, Bobby thought, that same innocent expression that hid a world of pain, pretending like there was nothing wrong. But he hadn't been able to hide it this time. Bobby knew that the expression was just for show. Dean didn't ever want to appear weak and there was something ugly in this kid's past._

_"GO AWAY!"_

_"Fine, I'll not ask again. But, I'll talk to your Dad when he gets back."_

_"No!" he said, his breath hissing as he stood. It was unclear if the pain of his injury or the fear of his father caused it._

_"Why not? You can't..."_

_"YOU CAN'T TELL DAD! OR SAM!"_

_"Sam doesn't know about your mom, or you, or the hunts. Does he?"_

_"Please... You can't tell him." Dean hoped to keep Sam away from this painful life for as long as possible. He didn't want to take away his brother's innocence like it had been ripped away from him when Mom died._

_"Don't tell Dad… or Sam…" That night hurt too much and Sam doesn't need the things that haunt his nightmares. There were lots of things Sammy won't remember because he was just a baby when it happened. Dean promised to always keep it that way._

_"You've kept in all inside for so long. You're Dad doesn't know it all… does he….Kid, you need to let me help you. I know about these evil things."_

_"I... I ... can't..." Dean said looking up at Bobby with a rather pained expression._

_"What about you? What do you want boy…"_

_His mouth was dry. His hair was wet. "I just want it to stop…please, just make it stop…." the child whimpered._

_"What? Make what stop?" Bobby asked as he moved slightly closer so he could see Dean's face._

_"Stop... please!"_

_"Hey, you're okay," Bobby assured him softly, while his guts squished in response to the fear flashing on the boy's expression._

_"Nothing… nothing happened…. I'm okay... just a bad dream! STOP IT!" He took a breath and tried to rule his face back to stoic and unfeeling, but only managed to look hurt, damaged, and innocent._

_"You're not fine. Believe me I know."_

_"YOU DON"T KNOW!"_

_"How it eats at ya... if you could have just did one more thing... tried one more thing... made it different." Lost a bit in his own darkness, Bobby grew quiet._

_"You've seen them?"_

_"Afraid I have to say yes to that. I know what's out there. You're not crazy and I'm sorry... sorry they hurt you."_

_"I'm okay. I have to take care of Dad." He swallowed heavily, set his jaw as if preparing to say things he never wanted to say. "He…he's really sad….. I can't make him feel better." Dean's mouth clenched. My mom...my mom..."_

_Bobby startled at the depth of understanding and selflessness in this child. How could anyone look so innocent when they talked about something so horrendous? "You know, it's okay to miss her."_

_"I still love her… please don't tell Dad… I'm not supposed to cry..."_

_"Why not?"_

_"Cause... cause..." The child looked up, trying to fight back the tears._

_Bobby found himself at a loss for words, an alien expression on his face. He felt himself look away, the raw emotion too painful for him to handle._

_Dean turned his anxious eyes on him, but Bobby didn't meet them, fighting the hurt that gnawed at him. "See no one understands."_

_"Kid... Jesus...kid... I ...it's not that simple, you don't quit loving people just because they're dead!"_

_Dean whispered and tears rolled, reds tainting his cheeks. Such infinite sadness haunted each word, wrapped up in loss. "I want my momma."_

_"I know."_

_"They…. They were…black…they were just darkness…. they… took her away….and no one can save us…. From….._

_"I'll do my best to keep them from hurting you…never again."_

_"BUT THEY DID!"_

_"I know… I can see it written all over you, but you're not alone. I swear."_

_"What if... what if it takes...Sam…?"_

_"I won't let it... I promise... It wanted me and Sam... What...if..." He cried violently._

_"Hey... shhhh. It's not coming back."_

_"Don't tell my Daddy… please. I'm not supposed to cry…. I not…"_

_"I won't. I swear…" he responded Dean soothingly._

_The book slipped from Dean's unfeeling fingers. He was too broken, too numb to stop it. The journal hit the floor, the sound clattering heavy in between his sniffles and tears. The boy appeared to be weighed down with a huge anchor of emotions toying with his soul. The shadows of that night would forever be a mark on the boy and Bobby wondered precisely what the demon did to the kids in this family. It was obvious, Dean knew way more than he wanted to tell._

_Bobby reached out, wishing to comfort him. He looked so small, so broken. As frail as shattered glass, Dean crumpled with the touch of a single finger, whimpering as if he expected Bobby still to hurt him too. Confused, Dean kicked out, not wanting comfort, not expecting it. He turned a pale expression as if his heart would burst if the man didn't stop. Dean jumped fighting, crying out. "No... No… don't…leave me alone… don't hurt…"_

_"I will never hurt you, kid."_

_"EVERYONE SAYS…. Everyone…"_

_"I don't know who did or why or how, but not me." As if on automatic, he closed the distance between them._

_"God…" He breathed as he pulled Dean from the closet, swinging him up fully in his arm, trying to bring security._

_He screeched. "Stop… let me go…. I… I…." Dean was so tired, he could have fallen dead feet._

_"I can't let you go, not when you need me. And maybe… maybe I need your help too. Trust me."_

_This time his façade was gone, flashing every drop of pain, fear, anger, and guilt that had been filling him since his mother's death and the pain he had experienced since it. "I see him… I…I remember…" Dean's eyes began to downpour and his body trembled. "They burned me…burned her."_

_"Not anymore."_

_"She said I was hers… and she would come back. Marked."_

_"No… she lied."_

_"My back…she said…hurt…"_

_"You're safe…I'll keep you safe." He felt Dean shivering and he could feel Dean's tiny head shaking. Slowly his hands kneaded down Dean's spine, comforting the child and feeling a deep scar at the base of the boy's spine. The visible signs were long gone, but the deep mark forever haunting. The demons had tortured this kid._

_"Shhh… easy, son. I won't hurt you. And I'll make damn sure nothing else does. I swear on your momma that I'll never hurt you… Ever! I would sooner die!" Bobby kept up the comforting murmur of words for several minutes until Dean's body relaxed. Bobby yanked the boy closer, embracing him deeper. Much to his relief and surprise, Dean allowed it and sobbed even harder."I know...go on let it out." He told the boy, who cried so hard, his breath hitched._

_"No... No crying." The words sounded like he was ordering himself to stop._

_"You can tonight. For once, you can rest in peace. I'll take care of this."_

_"But... but... my fault," Dean mumbled into Bobby's shoulder. "It's coming back... it... it said... I'm sorry… I couldn't stop it…"_

_Bobby put his hands against Dean's hair, stroking the strands. "Don't be sorry. You have nothing to be sorry for. What happened wasn't you're fault."_

_"Don't tell Dad... don't...not supposed…cry. I have to be brave."_

_"I won't I swear…" he answered gently. "You're the bravest boy I have ever known. Way stronger than any adult I've known either….. This pain is not a weakness….never be ashamed to love deep and regret loss."_

_"He... he….they….marked… hurt... I couldn't make him stop….I should…"_

_"It's not your fault."_

_"They burned her...and she... she..." He felt the little legs collapsed, exhausted with emotion and the weight of responsibility to his family. "I have to protect Sam. He's all I have of mom."_

_It was then, Bobby understood Dean had witnessed so much and locked that away inside of him, trying to be strong for everyone else. "No…no…no…no… You couldn't save her. You... I…it's just… I know it's too much... but I promise...shhh..."_

_"NO! Dean pulled at bit, trying to regain his careful walls. "I have watch Sam... have to..."_

_"Not tonight. You need to rest too. For once, nothing will harm you or Sam. I'll make damn sure of it. I knew a boy once, full of fire... like you. The evil went for him, but I know so much more now. I think he would want me to do this."_

_"He died?"_

_"He's with his mother. I don't see him anymore." Bobby couldn't burden this young boy with his story, but still the emotion rang in his eyes and pushed in his breath._

_Pushing back, he stared in Bobby's face. "They…they…"_

_"I've seen them. I've seen the pain they caused and right now I would rip them all to pieces just to take this away from you." Bobby sniffled, keeping his own darkness in check._

_"Don't cry." Dean said, tears streaming, trying once again to save the pain of another._

_Suddenly Dean yawned and Bobby knew everything was catching up with this young boy. "Don't worry about me. I'm twice as tough as dried up leather. "He prompted Dean to return to his shoulder, to hide in the comfort and safety. "Why don't you rest and not worry about some old war dog like me." He pressed Dean back to embrace him fully. "You're tired?" He felt Dean nod and wipe tears on his shirt._

_Suddenly little arms flew around Bobby's neck, holding for dear life. "Can you make them go away…? Please… please…"_

_"No… not the memories, but the evil that did them… I've killed so many and I won't stop until you're safe. As long as I have breath, I'll come when you need me."_

_"Pr…pro…p…" Dean couldn't even say the word for the tears and hurt pouring out._

_"Yeah, promise."_

_Bobby hugged him tight and Dean's shakes and sobs waned after a long time. Bobby vowed what horrors that hurt the boy would not come calling again tonight. Whatever reassurances he needed to make, Dean would have one night of peace. He let his grip weakened when he heard a protest noise. He looked, seeing the flutter of the little eyelashes flash away tears and heard more incoherent moans as the boy broke down, letting everything pour out._

_Still holding him close and shushing the child, Bobby finally carried Dean and sat down in the chair, while he rocked for comfort. "Go on... no more dreams today. I won't let them get you. I promise." He told himself that kids were supposed to be happier and enjoy things without worry, but that was all over for Dean. As if struck by a magic wand, Bobby's darkened soul opened. The needs of this child repairing the damage to the bitterness inside of him. Bobby thought his heart should break from the lack of laughter and joy inside this boy. All that was there was shadow and despair. Somehow, he knew the world still needed him and he would have to heal his own wounds along with this child. 'You comfy?"_

_Dean's tiny body moved weakly and his arms felt limply, but didn't answer. He made a muffled sigh of not wanting to go out as if he was figuring out Bobby was trying to get him to slip into dreamless oblivion, while rocking arms lulled him away. Dean felt warm and oddly safe and as hard as he tried to stay awake, he found he couldn't. It's been too long since he's had someone to really lean on. "Go on... go on now… trust me…. I'll trust you and you'll trust me." Just that quickly, Dean fell sound asleep in his arms, forehead resting against his shoulder._

_He shifted him further to a better position. His eyes were closed, red and puffy from weeping. Bobby smiled to himself as Dean relaxed against him, yawned, sighed heavily, and then continued to sleep. "Rest, I'll take care of you," he said against Dean's temple. Before he was aware of it, he placed a gentle kiss on the forehead._

_Fate, Karma, even coincidence- he wasn't sure what lead him to Dean or Sam, but things had irreversibly changed. Bobby felt as if he still had something to do with his life. He should have felt depressed and hopeless when he saw this boy's pain, but there was something special in the way Dean kept going. Increasingly, he wondered how he pushed hope aside and ignored it, when it was all these boys had._

_He believed he was helping two lost souls, but now he knew it was three. Two little boys, in pain and trouble, gave him back the desire to live, not just blindly hunt. Maybe from the moment Dean barraged in the cabin, he had found a new life. No matter what, he would find their father or raise them himself. Cause after this, he wouldn't be able to let go._


	14. Relation

**THEN…**

_Bobby held onto Dean as if for dear life, while the small boy slept so deeply, even the dead would have been envious. For the longest time, the season hunter couldn't bring himself to let go, to bring Dean to the other room to be with Sam. For just this moment, maybe the he could bring some peace where there was so much pain and torment. Silently, he wondered if that pain was the boy's or his own._

_"You feelin' better?" He asked the sleeper, looking at Dean like he really expected the boy to answer. Then he would hold him closer, rocking as if he could make the child forget everything. Bobby didn't quite understand what gave him the boy's trust, but it felt so scary and wonderful at the same time. He had no idea what he would do if he chose to raise these children or if he could be capable of raising these kids._

_Finally, he stood, rocking Dean back and forth, shifting the sleeping child in the makeshift swing of his arm. "Let's get you comfortable." He added, although the young man looked content and comfortable right where he was. Slowly, he walked to the bedroom, bringing Dean to join Sam._

_When the door pushed in slightly, Sam bolted up right, eyes wet with tears, brimming just near the surface ready to splash down his face._

_"Take'r easy. Everything's okay." Bobby winked at Sam as he shifted Dean down to the mattress._

_Dean's body stirred for a moment and Bobby eased him down into the blanket._

_"Dean?" Sam asked with trepidation._

_Dean's arms came up quickly around his little brothers back in a hug, "It's okay. I'm here." He wanted to make Sam feel better, hug him and tell him it would all be okay. It was his job to take care of Sam, but loving him came easier. It was out of the question to be emotional, because he had to be strong like John told him to be. Somehow, he didn't care so much about that tonight._

_Sam wiped his watery eyes the edge of the blanket and looked at Dean in wonder. "You're not mad?"_

_"I promise everything's going to be okay." Bobby added_

_As a sense of warmth radiated through Dean, his eyes fluttered. He curled up at the edge of the bed with Sam sprawled half on top of him. "Not mad."_

_Sam smiled, his little eyes gleaming up at his big brother. "Thanks Dean." Sam yawned and pulled his red blanket around them both, and then the child promptly stole most of it._

_Bobby stroked Sam's forehead, and then Deans. It was enough encouragement to send them both back to dreamland._

_"That's it, kids, go back to sleep. I'll fix this, I swear."_

* * *

**NOW….**

"I'll fix this, I swear." Bobby offered, still holding onto Sam. "I don't know how, but…"

"Lord in heaven, please forgive me." Father Flanery said, interrupting the tender scene between Sam and Bobby.

"No… no…I…" Sam glanced, pulling away from Bobby. "It's fine." Neither of them had heard the priest enter.

"Hmmm….. I don't believe everything is fine. You seem no better than before." He told Sam and then glanced at Bobby with the same look.

"We're hangin' in there padre." Bobby offered.

"Before…when you…. I'm sorry I was…"

"I'm sorry... I keep sticking my nose in where it's not wanted... excuse me now..." The priest rubbed the rosary beads between fingers.

"No… I think we could use any hope you can muster." Bobby explained.

""I've got connections." Father Flanery nodded, holding the beads now between his thumb and forefinger.

"We aren't doing so good…"

"The Lord helps those who help themselves. I think it's okay to try in this instant."

Sam flashed a slight smile and nodded back. "The other day… I shouldn't have spoken so harshly. I'm sor…"

"No need, my son. These are trying times. Why don't you tell me about him?"

"Dean. His name's Dean."

"Seem fitting. He looks like a man that could survive a plague of locust and frogs just by telling them to leave."

"Damn straight!" Dean interjected in his head. Of course, he also wondered if it was kosher to say Damn to a priest even if he couldn't really hear it. "Ah… HELL… CRAP…DAMN!" If cursing got anyone's attention, he would risk it.

"He's the best brother a guy could ask for and…." Sam wiped his eyes. "He feels things deeply with an unbelievable…" Sam sniffled.

"Kids got such compassion for strangers and family, you're amazed by it when you know how horrible things have been for him. Most of us would have given up on humanity… or did at one point, but not him."

"Knock him down and he comes up fighting. He gets hurt and cares and tries even more." Sam finished.

"I may be sick, but you two… I think I want to throw up! SAM!! BOBBY!! Please snap out it. Next thing you know you'll be playing the Cure!"

"It's breaking your heart to see this." The father noted.

"That and so much more."

"You know, the best brother wouldn't want his little brother blaming himself." The priest moved a hand on Sam's shoulder.

"Okay, I'll give him that one. He's got that right. The blame is blinding you to the bigger picture." Dean confirmed silently.

"Can't always get whatcha want." Bobby said blindly.

"Amen, brother. But in all my years, I have never felt so ill at ease about someone."

"My brother is the…." Sam started, taking offense at the words even though they were not said in sarcasm.

"That is not my meaning. There's something not right like some unseen thing…." The priest stopped. "Sounds insane for a man of my profession to spout things like this."

"No, its fine..." Sam's heart ached, and for that, he knew no treatment.

"After I met you two, I prayed to God to give me a sign, to guide me to help ease your pain and I got the strangest of all messages. I wish sometimes our Lord didn't work in such mysterious ways. It always helps to get a sign you understand.

"What was the sign?" Bobby asked.

"Actually…. Two very unrelated messages: It makes him happy when you hold his hand."

"NO IT DOESN"T!" Dean objected. "Dude, this guy is a crackpot."

"I think your wires are crossed, padre. He might wake up enough just to kick our rears."

"But, awake he would be." The priest noted with a smile.

"Can't argue with that logic." Sam actually laughed. "Still it sounds strange for Dean actually. And the other part:"

"The stranger part is… I kept getting things with the location Missouri on it. Never have been there and never had any plans to go. So, I guess I'll keep trying."

"Okay, that's weird." Sam and Bobby said together, while Dean thought it at the same time.

"Did I upset you?"

"No, not at all. We have a friend and her name's Missouri."

"And she can help Dean?"

"Don't know. But, we can trust her."

"Then I say you have a good friend.

"And she might just kick Dean out of his coma on principal. And having a reliable source…" Bobby added before he was interrupted.

"Is trust an issue normally?"

"You'd be surprised."

"Hmm…. I'd have to say probably not surprised by anything. Remember I preach rivers of blood, boils, and the end of time. Some would argue that to be impossible. In any case, hang in there, dear boy. I'm sure your brother will find a way to reach you in his own unique way. He'll be bangin' around for attention sooner or later."

"Now that sounds like Dean." Bobby scoffed.

"HEY! Is this pick on Dean day!?" The silent man seemed less than amused, frustrated by his lack of communication.

"If you need me, I'll be lurking around. I've got more souls to tend to in this day and age."

"Thanks, padre."

"Yeah, thanks…" Sam added.

No other words were exchanged as they stood silent for a moment, each lost in their own thoughts. Only Dean seemed to be active in his communication attempts. "Alright… GET MISSOURI…..ggeeeettttt….GET MISSOURI. How the hell does Spock do that mind melding thing? Hmmm….. SAM? GET MISSSSOURRRIIII!"

Bobby waited until the priest was out of ear range and finally spoke. "Okay... both of us are nitwits."

"YES YOU ARE! This sucks. I insult you and you can't hear me!!"

"MISSOURI… why in the hell…" Sam started.

"I'll get her here. Don't worry, Sam. You keep talking to sleeping beauty over there.

"HELLO! RUDE! I'm in trouble here." Dean reminded wordlessly.

* * *

**Hours later….**

Sam's amazed at how loud the sounds in the room are at this moment. He had stopped noticing them after a long while, growing accustomed to them as background noise. Now they echo endlessly as Sam is aware of hope again. The drip from the IV, the heart monitor, the machines all cut through the silence of the small room.

The door creaked open and he turned, hoping to see Bobby and Missouri, but instead he reacted as if an upright, walking snake was asking for entrance to his brother's room.

"GET OUT!" Sam screamed as Wain had the audacity to show his face back inside Dean's room.

"Please hear me out. I have an urgent message for you… about Dean….he's….he's lost, like he's here but not here… but something is. I got…a feeling... I need to tell you."

"For a charge I'm sure."

"KICK HIS ASS!" Dean thought.

"No, not this time. It's something I've never known… I just feel very connected to him and I couldn't shake it. Almost like we are relating to each other. So, let's agree it's pro bono."

"I have a friend who is more than capable of helping me."

"What could it hurt to listen?"

"I don't need overdone drama theatrics."

"And you won't get any of that bullshit. This thing… it's a bad sonvabitch. Something's off… You've seen a bit of the otherworld yourself." It wasn't a question.

"More than I would like to admit." Sam said.

"I'm so kicking your butt when I wake up. ARRRGGGG! This had demon stink all over it! I'm gonna kill you, you know that?

"Just listen to me and I'll leave. What could it hurt? Look, I wish I had more answers. I do. I've always been one step behind on this one."

Sam sighed. "What do you sense?"

"He's waiting for you….waiting for you to let him go… release him of some… burden… thing……but, he needs you to reach him? I can't get a clear message because he's not inside of this shell. He needs the road back….He needs you to try harder."

"I've been trying to get to him. Even playing his music for the past hour."

"But that might be considered a form of torture by some."

"Not to him." Sam admitted, turning the tunes down a bit, right in the middle of Paranoid.

"A little Ozzy,eh?"

"Yeah…" Sam chuckled with a surprised expression.

"Don't look so shocked. I am old, not tasteless. Got any Zeppelin in there?"

"You must be relating to Dean. You might be separated at birth or something"

"Bet I am related! How did you know?"

"Lucky guess! Both of you haven't gone passed the 70's rock after 3 decades have passed."

"Did you mom go to Woodstock? You never know…"

"No… sorry…"

"DUDE!!" Dean screamed. "He's trying to weasel in on ya."

"I thought if I made direct contact that I might get to him somehow." Wain offered and Sam nodded.

"You touch me and I swear!"

As Wain's hand brushed against a shoulder, Dean wished more than ever that he could punch- just once.

"He's…..I just can't…It's the oddest…It's like his spirit is trapped beyond…" Wain said, shifting his body slightly.

Suddenly, Dean's heart began to race. That one instant, he knew Wain was doing something to him. "SAM!!" STOP HIM!!' The hand touching him imprisoned his senses as if the air was being pumped out of his lungs and starving him. The only thing worse was the thought that Sam would be left at this killer's mercy once he died. "SAM!"

"Dean?" Sam spouted as Dean's throat made a strange screeching sound.

Alarms began to sound as Dean flew into full blown trembles and violent shakes, moving without control over his own body. His mouth gaped open and his lip quivered around the tube in his throat.

"He's seizing!" Sam yelled, pressing the call button, yet no emergency team came.

Dean twitched and struck out at odd angles. The lack of control left his body to flop like it was born without a single bone to support it. Tremors held tight to every fiber within him, while he screamed internally for Sam to stop Wain.

With no response team in sight, Wain covered Dean's body, appearing as if he were holding the tremors in check as he yelled "GET THE DOCTOR!"

As soon as Sam sprinted out the door, yelling for all his worth, Wain released Dean and immediately he stopped seizing and the monitors returned to a normal stream of sound.

"YOU SICK BASTARD! I'm here and you're just..."

"Oh, I know you're there."

"You can hear me."

"Plain as day. Sam's trusting if your life is in danger." A voice mockingly echoed from within the room.

"He'll figure it out and you'll pay…"

"I doubt he has a clue. Doesn't know what you are does he?"

"Yeah, brag on when he puts your ass back in Hell."

"I know the way to crawl out, figured it out for myself. Better than you ever did."

"I'm gonna make you pay. I'm gonna kill every EVIL thing upon this earth when I get out of this." He allowed hatred to color his intonation.

"You are damn good at making threats aren't you, but you can't do it…too much messing with your head and you have no idea who holds your strings. But you being a spirit slave would have been a sweet. You should be thankful you won't get to be used when the time is right."

"No one holds me!"

"Hmm… It's just too bad. Sam would have had no idea about the time bomb to hit him, but you had to get yourself messed up."

"YOU BASTARD!"

"I need you NOW!" Sam screamed pushing the door and a nurse into the room. He was followed by a team, all actively checking Dean's vitals and condition.

"He's stopped. I think he's okay now." Wain reported, breathing heavy for show.

A gush of a sigh sucked out of Sam's lungs. "Damn… I …."

""I think this is my cue to hightail it and let them take care of Dean. I'll be in touch as soon as I get anything."

"Thanks…" Sam said almost too soft to hear, staring at the medical team assessing Dean.

"It's been more than my pleasure."


	15. Hide

**THEN...**

Time, torturous and ending like the embers of pain in Bobby's soul, passed in almost virtual silence, not even the wind moved in the snow embraced mountain tops. The quiet, like the sound of cotton, normally would have set ill at ease in a hunter's world- for a man used to non-stop travel, violence, pain, action, and the need for revenge. Tonight it was a welcome friend. For the first time, in a very long time, Bobby didn't need revenge or alcohol to keep the darkness way.

Usually, silence drove Bobby crazy. He'd even thought of getting a dog just to have companionship, but now it seemed he would have the company of two small children, which settled something good inside of him. Days ago he would have denied such a thought, but the beautiful silence of two children finding a moment of peace had changed that prospect.

He nodded, his gaze focusing on something that he couldn't see, something deep within himself. Dealing with the lost of his wife was unfair, even if it was by his own hands with some demonic catalyst. He wished to God that he knew all that he knew now. But, that is how hindsight always worked- Always having the thing you need after it's too late to do any good.

His dear heart, sweet Sara- how he missed the stupidest things about her- The arch of her fingers, the way her lips curled before she cried, the snort after a loud giggle, and so much more indescribable small things. If someone had told him years ago that he would miss the burnt taste of meatloaf, he would have thought they were crazy. However, today, those reminders felt so much more important. Missing her was cross enough for any man to bear, but to lose Marcus-to see his blood on her delicate arch of fingers- was a loss of such magnitude, plumbing down the depths of an abyss and never really finding your way back.

His son's death violated the natural order of things. Parents are supposed to outlive children. When the police came that night, all he could muster was true evil had taken his family. Self Defense. They all said it- said she snapped and killed Marcus and of course he had no choice. One by one, all the friends, he turned them all away. He left all the non-believers about what happened that night behind, until he was all alone. Sadly, he liked being solitary too much. No one would ever rip the heart from him like that again.

Love and that need didn't survive that day unscathed and whole. Part of him was cut off, but he would have preferred to lose his own limb. Marcus was gone and the raw, oozing pain of it would never really go away. The hopes, dreams and aspirations he had for that child gone and lost forever. He lived knowing that pieces of him died each day; a life such as his was not really living- a walking zombie of a hunter, killing anything just to bring his son back. Nothing ever changed that emptiness or changed a damned thing.

Until now. Suddenly, he wanted to live again. And it may not be normal without his son, but maybe it could be a new normal life- one that wasn't so lonely and one in which he was needed. Before he found it difficult to let go of the pain because he equated letting go with forgetting. He would never forget. He understood that so acutely now. In a way it dishonored their memory by crawling in a bottle or crawling vacant minded behind a gun. It's been so long since Sara and Marcus died, yet the ache remained. It would always be permanent, but maybe it was time to let someone else in. He had learned to live in a new world without his family with a real resolution to his grief. Maybe he could make a better, more meaningful way in this world. Maybe he could learn how to grow the parts of him that did not die that day.

Staring down at Sam and Dean at this moment brought a happy memory to his mind. After all this time, he remembered his son with fondness and not pain. That had to mean something. Two young boys had quieted the darkness and, above all, he showed him there's still life after the loss of a Marcus.

Like a jolt to his system, he returned from his thoughts when a small hand touched the top of his hand. Silently he cursed to himself and looked down to see who was invading the past reflections of a broken man.

Dean stared back at him, smashing his mouth like he desperately searched for the right thing to say, finally speaking like the wounded healer he was. "It'll be okay." Now, several hours later, Dean had awoken, valiantly projecting the walls he built to protect himself.

"I'm suppos' to say that to you." Until this week there has been no room in his life for personal considerations. The ties of blood were strong, but maybe the ties of friendship and shared pain could be stronger. "Somethin' wrong? You should get some more sleep…"

Dean seemed tired, but Bobby could clearly see something else was on his mind. Just for an instant, an expression like someone walked over Dean's grave crept on the young boy's face- A desolate face that nearly breaks Bobby's heart. He can only imagine what the boy has gone through and the fears whirling in that tiny mind.

"Do you think my Dad's okay?" He was quiet for a few moments not knowing what to say. There was something strange about this man that Dean couldn't quite work out, but he suddenly felt comfortable with him.

"I don't know, but the storms have died down. I think we should get you and Sam somewhere safe and I'll get a search party after him."

"I have to stay here." Dean cleared the phlegm from his throat, feeling sick to his stomach as the next question rolled off his tongue and spewed out without a filter. "Do you think the demons got him?"

"The… the demon woman."

"Who was she… was she the one..."

Dean nodded. "Armaros. She said... She…. She came back for us….and Dad…" He stopped and lowered his head, seemingly too clogged with emotion to speak any more.

As for Bobby, he was too stunned by the revelation to do anything but stare for a few seconds, noting the nervous way Dean glanced at the doors. "Is that what you're Dad's after?"

"He said... said he killed her when…" There was anguish in his voice never heard before in a shell of a boy who wondered about his past and future.

"She came back and hurt you… right?"

Silence foretold more than Dean could form in words. They both were silent for about five more minutes, trying to fight the seething injustice.

"I have to be strong…have to be there for Sam and Dad… make Dad proud."

"You are a son any father would be proud to have," he stated quietly and simply. "I'm going back to my cabin…get my truck and get you out of this cold place. You trust me?'

After a few steps back, Dean paused and looked back at Bobby studiously. With a head jiggle, Dean had a slight fear of being alone again. The past did more to imprison Dean than any fear or order from his father.

"I'll make sure the place is safe and be back in over an hour. But, I want you to hop back in bed. We got a long drive out of the mountain."

"I have to wait for Dad… here."

"It's too dangerous with these storms and Sam could still infect with that flu bug again. He would want you safe." That's what Bobby would want if these were his boys- if he was their father.

**

* * *

**

NOW…

"Those boys...I…. they grow on your heart… so….." Missouri started and for the first time in her life she was at a lost for word.

"Yeah..." Bobby noted, knowing exactly what she meant anyway. "Don't know what's worse... keep losing them or dealing with the loss each time. Or if this shakes down as the end of Dean."

"I can't sense him yet and the one thing his spirit is…it's strong…"

"Forged by a lot of crazy ass shit."

"But not even a flicker. Last time I felt him for a good mile before Sam and Dean made it to my place. One thing about hiding behind those walls of his means there's lots to read. There's something holding this situation. Just this energy. I can feel it but not really understand it. I'm not sure if it's affecting Dean or not, but something is watching this. Whatever it is…it's clouded and murky."

"Like you're looking through a veil." Bobby added.

"Why, Mr. Singer, that was almost poetic." Missouri chuckled with a sad look still plastered on her face. Bobby simply blushed. "But, this energy is far from it... It's evil...cold...playing a game like a spoiled child... Hide and seek is exactly the words for it."

"I didn't say anything." Bobby noted.

" But you were thinkin' about it."

Just as Bobby and Missouri exchanged thoughts, Wain leaned against the nurse's station, watching the two intently. The addition of a new psychic meant he had to modify his plans, but that was sometimes a necessity in this business.

"All I know is if that you tell me what and I'll blast it to kingdom come." Bobby walked passed Wain unnoticed.

The man had been careful to only appear to Sam and Dean up until this point. The fewer eyes on his manipulation was all the better. The last thing Wain needed was Bobby, Sam, Dean, and Missouri interfering with his carefully constructed plans. Sometimes the less scrutiny the better in the world of demons and hunters.

"Dark and hidden...like it's hanging on the very air... pressing in on..." She stopped speaking, sensing something deeper as she passed by the nurse's station.

"What's wrong? Something here?"

"Yes, but that...this is the oddest thing. I sensed..."

"Dean?"

"No, but it feels like him too... different, but familiar. It might be him…just so pale and weak."

"Like something is keeping him in this coma?"

"I don't know." As Missouri spoke, Wain retreated down the hallway towards Dean's room, shuffling along with other visitors and nursing staff. "She always was that good." he muttered, cussing under his breath.

"There... I felt it again..." She reached out with her mind following.

"What does it want?"

"Hmmm...I see where Dean takes after you now. Not patient for answers, but with the best intentions."

"Nah, he's his Daddy's boy."

"This way..." She led them around the hallway, deeper and closer to Dean's room. "He may be his father's son, but there's a bit of you that rubbed off." She smiled, hiding it in the corner of her mouth, knowing Bobby needed to hear how important he was to Dean right now.

"Not the better part." Bobby smarted, blushing again, which he quickly condemned himself for doing another time. He hated that anyone could crawl under his skin and pull out the things churning away in his soul.

She ignored the comment, walking at a fast pace, being led by something or someone.

Wain strided now, not a full run, but when he found the opportunity to disappear without being seen, he vanished like pollen on the air.

When Missouri and Bobby whipped around the next corner, the power she sensed . "It's gone..."

"And we're..." It was Bobby's turn to stop speaking, seeing Father Flanery walking from the opposite end of the hall. "And that energy led us right..."

"To Dean's room." she completed.

"Bobby." The priest called out, friendly as if greeting someone he knew for many years.

"Padre...what are you doing here?"

"Thought I'd check on you and Sam."

"I'm sure he'll appreciate that."

"Where did you disappear to?" He asked Bobby.

This time Missouri spoke up. "I'm sort of the aunt to these boys... a few time removed mind you."

Chuckling, the priest nodded. "I'm sure these men don't feel that way towards you. I think they hold you in greater esteem than that."

"If you don't mind, our extended family would like some time alone with our boys."

"Of course. I need a strong cup of coffee anyway. I often sing the praises of caffeine- one of God's greater creations in my opinion." He turned and walked a few feet.

"Something wrong?"

"I don't know, but that man is hiding something, blocking me from reading him. Could just be a suspicious mind..." She narrowed her focus. "Remember walls make it easier to read, but his… I can't even get in."

"Or our padre is more or knows more than he lets on. He's been lurking about for a while."

"There's something here, whatever it's doing... if it's doing anything to Dean or watching... waiting..."

"I ain't fond of stalkers and gawkers in any case. I say we put it to the test."


	16. On Hold

**THEN…**

"How's that?" Bobby asked, wrapping the ace bandage around Dean's sprain, tightly and securely.

"It's too tight." Dean complained.

"Last thing we need is for you to re-injure that."

"I'm fine." Dean gruffed, walking just to prove he wasn't a wimp.

"Alright, tough guy. Is it hurtin' much now?"

"No, I want to go find Dad."

"Good, but that's a job for me. I don't want you boys up in the far woods if a storm hits us again."

"What if Dad comes back here?" Sam asked, now joining Dean in worry.

"He'll find directions on how to find ya. You won't be far, just off this mountain. I got a friend named Caleb coming to help me search. You'll like him- tuff as nails like you." He scruffed Dean's hair.

The boy shoved the attention off, acting like it didn't matter, but Bobby could tell how much it meant to Dean to be treated like a normal kid. Without a word, Dean grasped Bobby's hand for a few seconds while he made the gesture of pushing the man away.

"He's a big guy. Bet he could toss you two without breaking a sweat."

"OH yeah!" Sam said, punching a bevy of imaginary opponent. "Take that! That! I can take him. Dean taught me." He whirled, stabbing the air, almost falling over with every punch.

"You couldn't beat a wet paper bag." Dean mocked.

"I beat you."

"I let you win."

"Did not."

"Yeah I did."

"I won fair and...sqi…"

"Square." Dean completed, helping Sam finish his thought.

"You want a piece of me!" Sam offered, jabbing into Dean's underbelly softly, giggling, just before he wrapped a hug around Dean's waist. "You're turn!"

When an uproarious laugh slammed in the air, the boys stopped the good humored banter.

"You want a turn?" Sam asked the laughing man.

"No, I'm afraid you would tear me a new one."

"What's a new one?"

Now he had done it, he had to explain something uncomfortable and just how much was appropriate for Sam's age. He realized he was rusty at this and before he could find a reason, Dean spoke for him.

"It means you would beat him up really bad."

"Oh."

"For right now, I have a better idea for you and Sam."

"Ooohhhh…" Sam uttered excitedly. "Is if fun."

"Don't know….. I need you boys to tell me." He joked.

"I want to look for Dad." Dean demanded.

"We will, I swear." Before Dean could argue, Bobby had swung him on top of his shoulders in a piggyback ride, marching for the back door. "I'm going to pack up this place and you two… are going to enjoy some time in that snow."

"I don't play in snow." Dean said, wiggling a bit at the discomfort of not knowing how to react.

Bobby bounced him a bit and when he began to wobble, holding him tighter so he was secure. He strutted around, turning faster until Dean chuckled. "Tough. Cause Sam is going to cream you if you don't."

"Oooohhhh, I wanna win." Sam begged. "Can I win Dean? Can I get a ride too? Can we build a snowman? Sled! I wanna sled."

As soon as they were outside the back door, Bobby swung Dean down, poked his stomach a few time and elicited a sharp giggle. Then he inspected both boys giving strict instructions "No running on that leg. Sam, you take it easy on him cause he is not ready for full…"

"I am too!" Dean hated to be challenged.

"Okay!" With that, Bobby tossed a snowball right on top of Sam's head.

Small crumples of snow flittered all over his face. The young boy fell over and giggled.

"Dean did it." Bobby said, leaving the older boy to fend for himself.

"No, I didn't…" He sputtered as a lopsided, soft snowball whacked him in the mouth. "SAM!"

Sweet, innocent eyes glanced up at Dean while hysterical laughing poured from Sam's mouth.

"You snot!" Dean snapped, tossing a ball of his own, laughing just as hard.

"Watch the leg and don't go beyond this clearing." He ordered as he walked back in the back door, watching as Sam and Dean treaded a bit deeper in the snow banks. "I'll be watchin'"

At least for now, the boys were out from underfoot, giving Bobby a chance to erase all the traces in this place. If demons were after this family, he would leave them no clues to find the children. But, there was the problem of leaving something for their father to find should he need to follow.

He carefully inspected the room, making sure everything went with them. Outside his truck was already loaded with his cabin and soon the boy's cabin would be a distant memory. It was a hunter's responsibility to not leave a trace. He hoped the bad memories would, however, stay up in these woods and die in the cold. From the sounds of laughter outside, he imagined all things were possible. Day ago, he never imagined he'd hear that sound. Of course, days ago he didn't imagine a lot of things.

"BOBBY!" Sam yelled.

Before he realized, Bobby was urgently running for Sam's voice. A millions "what if's" and "oh no's" running in his mind, thinking one of them got hurt or worse.

"SAM! DEAN!"

"Bobby!" Sam scampered over and hugged the man's legs. "Dean is making stuff up."

"I am not. I can so!"

"No you can't"

"Uyuh-huh," Dean contradicted Sam's denial of his skills.

"He said he can write his name in the snow with…"

"Nooooo… No, no, young man." Bobby ordered, more chuckling than demanding. Still the gleam in Dean's eyes told Bobby the boy could possibly get away with it by just flashing a smile. Moreover, he would gain some latitude from the fact the boy was enjoying himself. "You think you two can behave so I can work on other things. Got a lot to do, you know. Think you can yell at me if you have a real emergency"

"He started it."

"You're such a tattletale."

"AM NOT. I don't have a tail!"

"Puke face."

"Meanie!" Sam yelled.

"Dude, you have to work on your insults!" Dean instructed. "Those are lame."

As the boys playfully argued, Bobby continued with his plans, leaving the boys outside on their own devices. When he heard a few more schreeches and laughter, he muttered, "God help the wilderness." He smiled before moving to the front room and further from the playing Winchesters.

Just when contentment settled back into the deadest part of his soul, fate had more plans in store. At first, he didn't notice any indication of someone approaching the cabin. But, when a boot scrapped against the wood of the porch, it was too much to ignore.

Bobby bolted up in time, drawing and cocking the shot gun just as a figure entered the cabin. A trickle of blood dripped from the man's shoulder, but his left arm held out his own weapon. "WHERE'RE MY SONS!"

The stood in a classic Mexican standoff, each waiting for a flinch to fire "Let me guess...you're the bastard that left them out here?" Bobby said, but thought worse. At best it was their father. At worst, it was a demon or a demon inside their father. Either way, Bobby was angry.

John hissed through his teeth, boring his gaze on the finger flexing just above Bobby's trigger. One small drop in that man's guard would be all he needed for a shot. "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO MY BOYS?! I'll blow a hole in ya right now."

"If I wanted to hurt them, you left them wide open for me."

Bobby was truly angry at the way John had left the boys, but more angry that he had returned at all. Part of him crushed when he realized he really wanted the boys in his life now. That was inexcusable and Bobby wasn't ready to forgive another child being ripped away from him, even though he knew rationally he should be happy that John survived, for Dean's sake.

"Anyway, you want the boys to know they have a murderer for a father? Hmmm? Have you grown so cold you could let them suffer?" He knew John's deepest fears, ripping them from the pages of the journal that he read. Normally, he would never invade the privacy of another man's thoughts, but this was far from normal. "You get killed or lost and they grow up all alone- far from you. Far from each other."

He knew John's fears like second nature; the fears of a father losing his children, just as Bobby had. Beyond the constant thought of not being able to protect them from the evil he hunted lay the prospect he would be separated from them.

"Give me my sons!"

"We both have guns, and I have Sam and Dean... so that trumps your demands!" Bobby had been inching closer, ready to disarm John as he pulled on the strings of emotions. With a flash of speed, Bobby twisted, knocking John's weapon free, but John countered, grabbing for Bobby's shotgun.

"If you've hurt MY boys..." When John grabbed the intruder's collar and shoved him against the far wall, Bobby tossed his gun far away, more than happy to settle this the old fashioned way.

That was all John had a chance to say as Bobby threw a balled-up punch, slamming with all the raw emotions. "You don't deserve sons!"

A small trickle of blood lingered a thin line of web like blood spittle from Bobby's fist to John's split lip for several seconds before the liquid link broke, dropping a splatter on the floor.

John's already bloody hand reached up, wiping at his lip, leaving a new smear of red on his hand. His face hardened and his jaw tightened. He lunged forward, locking arms with Bobby. They brawled viciously, tumbling to the floor in an animalistic wrestling match.

For the longest time, neither really had the advantage; John with an injured shoulder and arm and Bobby with broken fingers. But, when Bobby rolled to the top position, he moved his knee inside John's rib cage, pushing down hard. John rolled away in pain, but kicked outwards, connecting to Bobby's jaw. Afterwards, John immediately doubled over, clutching a rib. Both men sprawled out exhausted in pain.

"If you're done!" Bobby spat out a splatter of blood. "You want the boys to see you like this... see you attacking someone who helped them... Don't you think you've damaged them enough?!."

* * *

**NOW….**

"Thanks for coming, Padre." Bobby smiled, so smooth his smile could have melted butter.

"I do hope things are well."

"About the same."

"Sam and Bobby were filling me in on your miraculous signs." Missouri added.

"Not my signs- those belong to God."

"Christo" Sam muttered.

"What?" The priest flicked his head towards the sound.

Both Bobby and Sam reacted, dousing the clerical with enough holy water to burn any demon. Instantaneously, Sam spouted perfect Latin.

"Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica, in nomine et virtute Domini Nostri Jesu…." Sam's words were lost as the priest stood there, dumfounded and dripping.

"What in the name of heaven is the meaning of this?!" The priest asked without fear.

"He's not demonic." Bobby added.

"Of course I'm not."

"It's not him! WAIN YOU IDIOTS!" Dean screamed at the top of his head, if only he could force those words out of his lungs.

"Someone better explain right now or I am contact security." From his tone, the Father was not in the mood for anything but the truth.

"We thought you were possessed." Missouri offered.

With an apologetic look, Sam spoke up. "You don't have to believe us, but..."

"Oh...oh...I believe there are demons among us. Look around at our world, if that is not an indication of demons, than I am not a man of the cloth. Course believing in the ungodly..." He squeezed some water out of his jacket edge. "... I may be the only one of the faithful to see the darkness."

"Hmmm... We had a friend who use to swear that. He was an unconventional man of the cloth." Bobby thoughts filtered back to all the friends they had lost along this long road of evil- John, Jim, Caleb, even Sam and Dean.

"God love him." Missouri solemnly added.

"Of that I have undying faith. Now before I got a bath, I was about to say I was impressed Sam knew Latin, but the exorcism... I think you need to tell me what's going on."

"It's complicated." Sam admitted.

"Life often is." The soaked man suggested.

"I have a gift." Missouri explained.

"OH yeah, she's great with angelica root and crossroad dirt...and annoying the crap out of me. MISSOURI. First I can't keep you out of my head, now you have cosmic ear plugs." Dean flopped his hand, landing it squarely on top of Missouri's.

"To see in the beyond?" The priest questioned.

"Sometimes, but this..." She laced her fingers around Dean's.

All this...it just feels wrong..." Sam continued.

Dean reached out wiggling his fingers slightly, feeling Missouri's grip tighten.

"Did Dean not get hurt?" The confused holy man wondered.

"Yeah, and at first we thought it was only medical, but things aren't addin' up." Bobby offered.

"And you sensed something about me... something evil?"

"No, just hidden. I'm not some all power hoodoo woman. Seeing beyond the veil..." She smiled at Bobby. "... it's not as easy as you think. But, I sensed you were hiding something and..."

With an apologetic look, Bobby seemed to be saying a huge sorry. "We had to make sure."

"I couldn't take any chances with my brother."

"You had to check me out. That is understandable. For my part, I do have a past that I prefer not to think about. I failed some good friends and family. And now I have been given a means to make more of a difference in this world. I'm not surprised you picked up on that. Perhaps, today is the day that I am supposed to help you. I wish the Lord has less mysterious way. And if something is after you, then it's still out there. It's not me."

"That's a comforting thought." Bobby noted with sarcasm, more for the fact they knew something was watching, at the very least, if not controlling the outcome of this situation.

"We aren't sure what influence, if any, this presence is having over him. We aren't even sure if it is just waiting to swoop in if Dean di…" Sam swallowed the word die down his throat and held it there, not permitting the idea to fully be spoken.

"I sensed a presence earlier and it lead me to you. There's an evil here, festering like an infected wound."

"DAMN IT, WAIN!! It's Wain." Dean's fingers flickered faster, so much so that Missouri gasped.

"It's just a reflex." Sam assured, but found no comfort in admitting it.

She gripped Dean's hand tighter, almost stopping the movement down to a simple wiggle. "It's okay baby. It doesn't matter. Maybe in some way, he might know I want to be here for him."

"No the reflex is a really bad song from the 80's! This is me!"

Father Flanery moved closer to Sam, trying to understand the situation at hand. "What would demons want with Dean?"

"Long story... let's just say we know too much." Bobby offered.

"Our family has a bit of history with these things."

"History... hmm... I call it a colossal wonder-fuc..." Before Dean could finish the thought, Missouri chuckled.

"What is it?"

"I don't know. I just remembered...you know the day in your house in Lawrence, when I told Dean to clean the mess. He was going to..."

"Use some colorful language." Sam smiled. "Yeah, I don't think he knew what to make of you."

"I found myself wanting to tell him not to curse me… to say it to him just now. For no real reason."

"Think I wouldn't mind to hear him cuss up and down a blue streak." Bobby admitted.

"So would I." A twinge of emotion spilled over her words.

"You felt me... Damn it..." He wiggled his fingers as hard as he could. "Alright, you have to think Dean. I need a message they understand. Suddenly, he realized his music still played in background. Just under the voices. The very end of Metallica's One was playing. For sure, he would have to talk about inappropriate music to play to a man in a coma. "Nice song choice, Sam!" Slowly, he let his fingers move with the music rhythm, keeping perfect drum time.

"I'm sorry, it's not really important to figuring this out." She apologized.

"No, but it's nice to get through the bad times with good memories." The priest added. "Do you think something could be using Dean for some reason?"

"Damn well possible." Bobby muttered. "They ain't above such things."

When the song changed, so did the pace of Dean's fingers. This time to the Moody Blues' Nights In White Satin. "PAY ATTENTION TO ME! ME! COME ON MISSOURI!"

"Sam, I …." She jumped back, dropping his hand.

"I felt something, but it was so faint… Maybe it's just wishful thinking... It was so...unnerving. I just felt this chill radiant from him and into me."

Sam grabbed Dean's fingers, not speaking, trying to capture whatever had just freaked out Missouri.

"Didn't I tell you, he liked when you held his hand?" Father Flanery reminded.

Bobby chuckled unable to resist. "Dean would sooner have his spleen removed...

"... With a spoon." Missouri remarked.

"SOME psychic you are! I'm going to take that spoon of yours and stick it…"

"DEAN WINCHESTER!" She scolded.

"What?" Sam asked hopefully.

"I just felt him. It was weak and horribly frustrated and angry... but I felt something. He was angry at us.

"DUH!!" His fingers tapped harder on Sam's clasping hand, drumming out the beat in perfect time.

"Dean! Come on wake up!"

"Dude, I'm trying! I can't... Something is up with Wain! He's playing us!"

"Boy, are you still with us? Come on now. It's not good to do this to an old man." Bobby kept his voice calm, but the air of hope hanging on the words was hard not to notice.

"Dean... you..." Sam glanced down, watching the gently rise of the fingertips in his hand. "I...Bobby, I could be losing my mind, but...his fingers are moving in a pattern. It can't be…"

Sam flipped the song to the next one in line. Then another song changed, offering up the not so subtle sounds of Jimmy Hendrix's "All along the Watch Tower". Dean stopped tapping for a second, adjusting to the new rhythm and then began again.

"Huh...he's... no way..." Sam grabbed the player and shuffled to the next song, finding Dean adjusted the tap to the new beat. One song after the other, the beat changed and Dean matched the rhythm. "It's the music. He can hear it, he's here. He can hear us!"

"About time Magnum PI!"

"I think he just smarted you off." Missouri noted, with the most loving shot of happiness. "Baby, come back to us now."

"I don't care. Tell me off as much as you want." Sam directed at Dean. "He's here. I told you... I told you he was..." Sam felt so much relief.

"Son, we're right here." Bobby touched Dean's temple, resting his hand. "We're right here. Hold on kiddo."

Finally he stopped moving, realizing how much effort it took to maintain any level of communication with them.

"No, don't stop." Sam begged.

"I feel him. He's so tired."

"Hell, boy you've been sleepin' all this time. Don't get lazy on us now."

"Bite me."

"Hmmm... I'm not going to repeat that." Missouri said.

"Finally!" Dean huffed.

"You watch your tone young man." She said good naturedly.

"He's..." Sam gulped.

"I can hear him. Not all of it, but he's alive and with us."

"Okay, we're in deep crap. Wain is playing us and you guys need to get him. Stop being emo candy asses and burn the sonvabitch. He has some sprit slave bullshit going on. The mofo is messing with my mojo...wait... okay... that was...ignore that last part."

"He knows something is here. He's been trying... I can't get it all..."

"We'll take what we can get." Bobby reassured.

"Focus in on me, Dean. Tell me what you can."

"Okay, Hooked on Phonics version. WAIN! SPIRIT SLAVE! KICK ASS!"

"Spirit slave?"

"What the hell is that?" Sam asked.

"That's rare." The priest pointed out "Sorry, it's just I've only read about that in my own research. It usually is a connection to something traumatic"

"Take your pick of all the stuff we've been through. Did someone do this to you? Come on. I need you on this one." Sam begged his big brother.

Suddenly, Dean felt a pull, dragging him. "No... No... I can't…" A pain shot up his spine, traveling like a cracking in each of his vertebrae.

Missouri jumped. "That evil, it's stronger... I feel it overpowering, clawing into Dean."

"Fight it!" Bobby yelled. "I know you're strong enough, you hold on now."

"Wain! WAIN!" Dean screamed as a bolt of pain flashed through his still body, shocking it upward into an arch.

"No... Don't..." Sam sniffled before he erupted in anger. "You bastards are going to pay for what you've done to him!" He promised to the dead air, threatening whatever presence hurt Dean.

"WAIN!"

"DEAN!" Sam yelled, grabbing his brother's hand, trying to move the fingers for him. "COME ON!"

"WAIN!" Then Dean was too drained to fight any more, the power over him to strong and relentless.

"He's gone again. I can't hear him anymore. Whatever, it is… Its powerful to the likes I have never seen." Missouri softly apologized."I'm sorry. I can't reach him now. I only got one last thing from him and it may be…."

"It's new ground for us all." Bobby comforted.

"Before he...he said a word that sounded like a name.

"That's my brother! He comes thru in a pinch. We're going to get you back."

"Wain... it's him. He knows." Dean tried to reach her in vain.

"He said Armaros"

I didn't say that… WAIN! I said Wain." There was no connection for Dean to protest.

"Armaros?" Bobby and Flanery said simultaneously.

"Okay, that was too much of a coincidence." Missouri said.

"I think the padre and I know that name for very different reasons."


	17. First Ones

**THEN…**

"I should throttle you." John muttered as Bobby got the first-aid kit. "But, you helped the boys and for that…"

"More like we helped each other. And I think there will be plenty of time AND reasons to throttle each other at another time." Bobby said in a way to show John he wasn't yet happy or satisfied with the turn of events. He imagined some day and in someplace the raw emotions and resentment between them both would be settled by fists. Until then, they had bartered an unsteady truce.

John stared out the back door window, watching as the boys tossed snowballs like they were in the world series of snowball fights.

"What got ahold of you anyway?" Bobby busied himself with bandaging John's shoulder.

"Banshee. Bunch of locals the next town over visited Ireland and brought back a tainted souvenir. Let that bitch out. Ten deaths in about five days."

"They aren't all pretty when you get up close and see them for the death they are."

"Got a nice set of fangs too. Missed that in my research. I was unconscious for several days."

"Found that out the hard way myself." Bobby noted. "Got a scar on my calf muscle to prove it. And Goblins, they are full of surprises too...their fingernails are kinda like the stinger of a bee. But, hurt a hell of alot worse."

"Not even research can cover everything." John chuckled. "I've been keeping a record. So when the boys are old enough, they will know all I know."

"I saw it. Dean guarded that like Scrooge in a bank. But, I think there is more to your story than what's on those pages. Dean's too shell shocked…"

"The boys are really okay?" John questioned, surveying the children playing outside.

Bobby saw the anxious look and quickly moved to alleviate his fears. "More than okay right now. I don't think they need to see you all bloody. They've been through enough." When he taped the last wrap in place, he finally tossed John a clean shirt. "You want to see them."

"More than anything but let them play for a while. They don't get to do it very often." From the vantage point of the back window he spied on the boys as they now began to build a monumental snowman.

"Sam's been feelin' poorly for a few days and got them in a pickle, but Dean took charge and flagged me down. While my back was turned, he took some food out of my truck."

"I'll repay you."

"Nah, Dean and I settled up. Main thing was they ran out of food. Sam couldn't keep it anything down. So, he found a way to get what the youngin' needed."

A soft smirk laugh slipped out on a sigh."He's a good boy. Always has been." Then he heard them laughing, daring each other to make the snowman even bigger.

"I caught him. We both took a tumble. He got a sprain, but it's just tender now. I got the worse end of the deal."

Flashing his broken, splinted finger, he used the gesture to drive his point across. He kept his word, John would never learn about Dean's journey in the woods. He would not betray that child's trust- not now- not ever.

"Still managed to punch me damn hard. You must think I'm awful- being away from them so much, ferreting them away like this. I thought they would be safer up here... away from everything that could do them harm."

"Evil lurks in all corners. In the most wonderful and horrid of places. We don't get to choose. I've been where you are, but the demons didn't even spare my kid or wife."

"I know Mary died saving them… I know she…. And Dean…. He fought them so hard that night. He doesn't even know it, but…"

"He remembers more than you think."

"He told you?"

"Not all of it, but he's been in world of pain. And something stirred it up recently."

"I tried to stop and give them a real life- a normal one. But, I realize once demons claimed us, they don't stop. I just wanted the boys to have a home and family. I thought I could give that back to them."

"But, something happened. It came back." Yet John's words touched him in the most simple way. Home and family- They were all the things Bobby wanted back. This family and he had more in common than the demonic touch that destroyed their lives and the loss of ones they loved. They were all desperate souls blown to waste away like dust.

"Hmmm... It's not like Dean to be so open."

"It took more effort than you know."

"He use to be so trusting. Never saw a more open, lovin' boy. He's still stronger than any of us. Don't know what I would do without him." Just as John spoke, misty eyed and distant, Dean laughed so loudly it could have echoed for miles. "It's good to hear that laughter again. I thought for sure he would never feel that way after all of this."

"Have as much courage as your son. That kid is still in there, fighting for his family."

"I failed to protect him- protect them both- but he did. The night of the attack, because he saw the demons first, they didn't have time to do all they wanted. It cost Mary her life, but..."

"You know what he saw."

"Always did, but I hoped time would soften it, take it from his mind. He was so young. Thought if I told him the story long enough, he would only remember my version."

"Do you know what they wanted?"

"Still searching for the reason. I mean why us? Out of all the families in the world there has to be a reason. I know there was at least two of 'em in the house that night. I found a psychic, Missouri, she showed me the way. Saw the evil and since then…"

"You've tried to kill every one of them. We all get in hunting by circumstance, not choice."

"Yeah, but can I ask them to choose this life? I didn't know how bad it could get until 4 weeks ago."

"When it came back for Dean."

"She… or at least the host was a she. Armaros. She tried to get them both, but Dean held her off, made Sam run back to our new house. I set up a new place for them- gave 'em a real home and the demons pulled us back in this mess."

"He took her on without any means of winning."

"Yeah, but he's always protected Sam so hard since that night. I can't tell him not to. She hurt him for ten days. Took me that long to track her. When I found him... he didn't even realize it was me. Just fighting with raw animalistic drive. I had to sedate him to take him out of there."

"They'll take any means to get what they want."

"Not him. That she-bitch will never touch him again. I swear that to God, cause even he won't be able to stop me in that. I'd crawl out of my grave to keep him from her hands. But, I won't have to worry about her anymore. I sent her packin' straight to hell."

"And you enjoyed it."

"Damn straight! For the first time, I felt like I had made one wrong into something right. For him. Made sure she suffered as much as Dean had. And before that she told me all the things I wanted to know. Found out her demonic name, what she did the night at our house, who killed my Mary and one day he'll be burning with her. And I won't apologize for feelin' that way."

"Didn't ask for a sorry, I know what I would do if I found the thing that took my Sara and Marcus. Did that make it all better?"

"No, but I made sure she couldn't use Dean. He was so weak… tired….He couldn't move for a full week after I got him, but he beat her. She tried to break him and he fought her with all his strength. He held her off."

"And how long do you think he could do that, you said yourself he was wild when you found him."

"He's strong enough."

"She was the one that marked him and he knows it."

John gave him a surprised stare. "How do you know..."

"Fear of losing you and Sam left him little room for Dean other than trusting me. The stress of it all just spilled out of him. All that bottled up, dented misery just popped loose."

"She marked a claim on his soul. Kinda like a time bomb should she need it- a pawn in a demonic game. He didn't even feel her, she was just a remnant inside his head, watching and waiting. She planned ahead in case her brethren turned on her."

"A bargaining chip."

"And she knew Sam was in those plans."

"And she could use Dean and Sam would fall in place."

"Well, no matter, I got her and she'll never hurt him again. And we'll protect each other."

"These horrors will haunt him for the rest of his life. Can you forget what happened?" Bobby asked with disbelief.

"I promised to protect him and its' taken me this long to get him to trust nothing is coming."

" He doesn't believe it. He is one step away from a real breakdown. He needs to heal. He is only doing that brave face for you. Something terrible happened and he is holding more of the darkness than he should." Bobby started to explain in a quieter voice, and then moved to hush John when he started to interrupt. "Being broken is interfering with your lives," he told John gently.

"I am no longer alive and as long as they are... that is all that matters."

"Tell that to Dean. Tell that to Sam, who is so innocent in this world he would touch danger rather than run. Those boys have to be told the truth. If something happened to you, what would they do?"

"Dean and I, we can all get through it."

"Don't make me start breaking promises. I told those boys they would be okay."

"It's not your story to tell. Maybe someday, a few years from now, I'll sit 'em down and tell them what really happened but they're not ready to hear the truth."

"I don't agree but Dean's your son." Bobby made no effort to hide his anger at John's decision.

"I got one of the damn things that hurt him- took his childhood. Don't you think he suffered enough? He doesn't need to be reminded of it every day of his life."

"You may not get a choice on how this she-devil affected his life."

**NOW…**

As if precisely timed clockwork, the nurse and orderlies had shooed them out to perform routine testing on Dean, but at least this time Sam wasn't worried about the results. His brother was alive and had given them a working amount of information. Dean never ceased to amaze him. His brother was the one in real danger, in a coma no less, but the first thing he did was warn them.

Of course, Sam would have preferred Dean use that energy to survive the ordeal, but even a non-speaking Dean could win this argument. That, perhaps, was the best part of his brother's charm. Still, he would have preferred to have Dean present and participating in the discussion rather than lost in some coma.

"He'd give anything for you." Missouri told him as he glanced away.

Deep inside the hospital's chapel, the new formed band gathered, planning on what to do next. Bobby and the priest were busily flipping through information. Yet, Sam wasn't even interested in research at the moment. "I don't want him to. Can you make him change his mind on that or give me a better message?"

"Oh, he didn't have to say that. I haven't heard a peep since that presence..."

"Then why did you…"

"I don't need any otherworldly powers to know that. That child loves you."

"Why do we always wait to say…"

"Cause it hurts too much to admit when you need someone. You're Daddy had the same problem. You've been thinkin' about him."

"Yeah, I just wanted to go…"

"Can't go back now, baby. All you can do is move forward. But your Daddy, he knew. Just like Dean."

"I think I'd feel better if he was here." Sam glanced up at Bobby and their new friend. "If all of the friends we lost were here now. Sometimes I think they are watching us- maybe they are the angels mom told Dean about."

"You never know. Some of them were too stubborn to move on. You'd have better luck finding a cat in a doghouse than moving those pighead men on." Missouri chuckled.

"We'll I'd say we got us a big problem. If I have my guess, that she-devil is back." Bobby finally announced. "And we have no idea where she is hiding."

"How would she plan for Dean to get hurt?" Sam asked.

"Don't think that was part of the plan, but demons don't mind takin' advantage when they can."

Missouri gave him a stern glance. "And we're supposed to sit here while Dean suffers. Someone better think again."

"Knew I like her." Bobby smiled. "We have to keep up the ruse. This hospital is full and there are too many hosts for a demon to hide in. And Armaros is a mean bitch. She's the first witch."

"I thought she was a demon first?" The priest questioned.

"She is, but she invented the craft."

"Wait a minute, you said back…. Dad never said anything about this witch."

"She came with the yellow eyes to your house that night, but Dean ran into her before she got to your nursery. Don't know all that shook down that night, but…"

"He tried to save me?"

"You're Daddy thought so." Missouri said.

"AM I THE ONLY ONE WHO DOESN'T KNOW THIS!"

"John, or Dean for that matter, never talked about it." Bobby added. "I tried to pry it several times…."

"Dean buried it inside of his hopes for you, Sam. Why do you think you became so important to him?" Missouri reminded.

"You may not remember it, but back when I met you, your Pop had just sent Armaros packin' to hell."

"He did?" Sam asked.

"Of course, it came after you and Dean. Scared that poor boy to death." Missouri added.

"Didn't John tell you?" The priest asked.

"No, he kept us under his control that way. Dad liked to play those games."

"Oh Baby, I know he kept so much of it locked away in his own darkness, and I could slap him more times than not..." Missouri took Sam's hand.

"...you know I had a few words over the years with John." Bobby reminded.

"Yeah, me too." Sam had to admit.

"I know I am the new kid on this block, but all father's in world make stupid mistakes and don't say all they should." The priest offered tentatively.

"He thought he could protect you from the worst of it." She said tenderly before her tone changed to full on attitude. "Course, he was an idiot." Missouri smiled.

"Took Dean a while to trust anyone after that. Gave me a hell of a time when I found ya."

"I remember the snow and… " Sam chuckled with wetness in his eyes.

"It's okay to remember the good times, even when things see most desperate." Missouri said again, mirroring her own experience when Dean tried to contact them.

"We were happy- having fun. He creamed me in a snowball fight."

"You were being kids." Bobby reminded. "But, do you remember Dean missing right before?"

"Yeah. Dad said friends were takin' care of him. He left me with Pastor Jim."

"He had to make sure you had protection while he looked for Dean." The priest reasoned. "Or at least it seems like a logical thing for a father to do."

"He got hurt. I remember he was upset and didn't sleep for a long time. Cried a lot. I never saw him cry until then."

"We'll Armaros came calling. She left a mark on him and tried to use it. John knocked her ass back to hell."

"But, the powerful ones are hard to keep locked in any prison." Flanery added.

"Evil lies, cheats, and steals its way back into our world. It's hard to keep that at bay when people overlook it. You've seen it so many times." Missouri squeezed Sam's hand harder.

"She branded a mark on Dean's lower back, faint but there. The scar may have faded, but you got to wonder…." Bobby let the information free flow without a filter.

"If she is at it again." Sam squeeze Missouri's hand lightly as a prompt to say I'm okay before he moved away from her.

"Nothing would surprise me about the Grigori." Making a mark of the cross over his torso, the priest seemed to say a silent prayer.

"Grigori?" Sam questioned

"They are the first-the fallen ones." The priest fumbled with his rosary as if he were calling on a higher power to keep the evil at bay.

"…and they reproduced with humans…" Bobby continued.

"In Genesis, they were the first watchers. During seminary, I found other references of the fallen."

"Like Guardians?" Sam asked.

"Feels like they fell so hard and dark." Missouri added, shivering.

"Exactly right, Miss Missouri." Flanery confirmed.

"I remember Dad saying the first demons took on human mates, but..."

"Those are the Grigori-the accursed ones. They were once holy, but they turned to depravity. Azazel was the twisted leader of the group. He…" The words trickled slower and stopped when Sam flashed a devastated look. "Is everything alright?"

"Go on, we just know that name all too well." Bobby said.

"Then you are most unfortunate."

"You aren't whistlin' Dixie." Bobby confirmed.

"Dean killed him." Sam offered.

"That must have been a feat, but I didn't know there was any way in existence to off a..."

"A few, but that is a longer story, Padre."

"Anyway, Azazel taught people how to make war with knives, arms, shields, and coats of mail and he was cast out of heaven. There arose such godlessness and fornication, that all the Grigori were led astray. The human race was degraded and Azazel and the whole brood were cast into the fire. The birth of sin in the world is attributed to him."

"I thought Lucifer was the original fallen?" Missouri wondered.

"That's a whole other story. Lucifer's prize was the pursuit of being higher than humans, more power than heaven. It's all connected in twisted mess and lots of information has been lost over the centuries. These watchers were not concerned with power at this point, but corruption for their own gains. And over time, they grew more greedy and with loftier goals."

"And absolute power…." Bobby started.

"Absolutely corrupts" Sam finished.

"Armaros was among those fallen." The priest continued.

"She taught men and women spells and manipulations. The first line of witchcraft. She's where you Daddy got information about Witches."

"Now, I know why Dean hates witches." Sam said. "Hmmm... like a Pavlov response."

"Not that there is much to love about them!" Missouri offered.

"And she used her witchcraft on Dean. And she has him now." Sam rubbed his face, cupping his hands and took a deep breath.

"That's my guess." Bobby glanced at Sam. "Dean hasn't mentioned her since that cabin and for it to pop up now would be too odd. She wants that connection. Making the play she intended years ago that John stopped."

"You think she brought him back?"

"Not beyond reason. They are all in a mess with Azazel being dead. Power plays are bound to be…

"So that is what he means by Spirit Slave. My brother has been taken over."

"Ah… now this is really interesting." The priest started. "… well interesting may be the wrong world at a time like this. But in the 16th century, a French theologian, Sinistrari, noted that the fallen existed between humans and angels. He was the first to call them demons, who could use humans to do their bidding. To affect this plane, they had to possess human form or manipulate a human to do their works for them."

"And she's done this to Dean?"

"How could she get in him? We got protective marking tattoos. It should have kept her from coming back."

"It's not like possession." Bobby said. "And this is not a widely know part of the witching art. It's very rare."

"Exactly. Sinistrari was the first to discuss the spirit slave as a dissociated part of the victim's mind- a place for the controller to hide. The spirit slave was created by a witch, who used a traumatizing ritual most likely during childhood of the victim. And from the sound of it, Dean has had plenty."

"He would know… he would…" Sam demanded.

"Maybe not… The padre's notes said the victim is entirely amnesic of the demon's existence. Sounds like the way he was when we found him after…"

"When he came back to us." Sam's eyes flashed anger. "He lost over four months…"

"He doesn't remember anything from that time?" Father Flanery asked.

"No….."

"I'd say that is a confirmation of him being under demonic influence. And anything Dean knows, she knows." He rubbed his rosaries so hard it might break the chain holding them together.

"Which mean, she knows we are lookin'" Bobby took a deep breath. "And Dean is a land mind waiting to go off whenever she wants."


	18. Help

**Then...**

"Dad?" Dean mouthed in almost disbelief.

Had his tiny cheeks not been stained from the cold, they would have flushed red from shock and relief. He shuddered, unsure of the sight before him. Bobby surmised that deep down Dean believed his father wasn't coming back, even if he had talked a better game to him and Sam.

For a moment John panicked, wondering how long Dean had been there, maybe listening to the secrets and the dread that John bore. He put his sons through a lot, but he figured they could be spared some pain. If he told Dean what really happened, he knew it would traumatize him for the rest of his life. Sam and Dean were all he had and whatever it took to protect them was worth it. All the injuries, pain, and bottled up emotions were worth those boys, even if he had to kill all the evil of the world to do it.

"Dad?" Dean asked bleary eyed, his lips trembling as he spoke.

What his mind could not believe, his body did whole heartedly. His leg kept him from jumping, but Sam pushed him forward, trying to enter too. At least John knew the boys had just joined them from Sam's impromptu and clumsy entrance.

"You're back." In the heat of excitement, Dean tried to run full force, ignoring any ache in his leg. His eyes shined with sincerity and relief. His legs bent a bit during his run, but no pain could stop him. He cried and stubbornly pressed on till he was hugging John.

"Easy, kiddo. I gotcha." John offered.

"Dad?" said Sam quietly. "DAD!" Sam yelled, running a few feet behind Dean.

"I'm back. I hear you've had some interesting days?" Pulling from the embrace, John swung Dean up to sit on the chair, looking at the ankle like it just happened. Sam hopped up next to him before his father had a chance to grab him.

"It's been kinda crazy."

"What did happen, son?" John asked cautiously. "It's okay just tell me the truth."

"Dad…" Dean started to explain but stopped not sure where to begin.

The child looked back at Bobby, searching for the right answer or even a plausible answer. Suddenly his face looked so guilty John was convinced he didn't have the full story and was about to demand it, when Bobby stepped in, noticing the child struggling to come up with an explanation. Bobby could clearly see Dean was about to take full responsibility even though none of it was his fault. Had it not been for Dean, things would have been exceptionally bad for both boys, and he made a quick move to stop the young man from bearing the blame.

"I told you what he did. He kept us all safe," Bobby offered, winking at Dean, which gained him a smile from the boy.

John seemed ill satisfied, but for some reason Sam let out a cough at that point, distracting the inquisition. His hand flew to stroke Sam's hair, feeling the boy's forehead for any sign of illness, more from guilt than fear of the flu's return.

"Dean was so cool! It was the bestest!" Sam said, defending his older brother.

In that one moment, Bobby realized Sam took in way more than anyone ever believed. He surmised in a few short years, despite Dean's wants and intentions, Sam would blow the lid off the Winchesters' secrets.

For now, he was still the innocent one to them all, and like Dean, John hoped it could always stay that way. Naturally, it was a lie, but like everyone else, he lied best when he lied to himself. "I wasn't worried. I knew it was all going to be okay, but I should have left you with Pastor Jim."

"Bobby, you have to meet Pastor Jim. Sam explained, obviously changing the subject He has this room with all these thing that he calls the secret room. I think it has treasure."

"No, it doesn't," Dean corrected. "It's just got bad floors and he doesn't want you to get hurt."

From Dean's expression it was obvious their friend Jim had a room that was not meant for Sam to see and indeed Sam was wise beyond his years, even if he still had a playful nature.

"I like the treasure better! We can be pirates then. ARGGG!!" He jovial poked at Dean's side and watched as Dean flinched, only to receive the same treatment back.

"Stop it." Dean ordered.

Are you back now Dad?" Sam questioned.

"Sure thing, little man and glad to be back."

"What took ya so long?" Sam asked not so innocently, with a taste of defensiveness in his voice.

"Long story," John replied.

Bobby looked over at Dean, who just appeared grateful. His small shoulders shook as if any moment he might breakdown again. Almost on instinct John turned to Dean, bearing his gaze on the struggling boy. For a moment, Bobby wondered if John was going to revisit the idea of digging at the truth of their meeting.

"You should be proud of them. They helped me and each other."

"It's gonna be okay now, son." John said as he inspected Dean.

As if his gaze could take away all the anxiety in the child, he focused on him for a long time. He swept a stray hair from the boy's forehead. It was a sign of affection uplifting and simultaneously sad. An act so rare that it was only reserved for moments of utter desperation. More times than not, those occurrences were few and far between. The small cheek pushed forward, seeking out the safety of his father's hand, letting John keep away whatever demon haunted his child. John wiped at Dean's eyes, stealing any sign of tears and then he gave the boy a wink. Dean jumped in his father's arms and gripped so tightly he might never let go.

"I know... I know." John coaxed.

"Dean?" Sam asked. "Don't be sad."

"He's alright, Sam. "

"He's okay just tired. Remember you just tried to wage the snowball battle to end all battles." Bobby noted, trying to give some graceful out to Dean.

"What's wrong?" Sam demanded.

"Nothing..." Dean almost whispered.

John shifted Dean back, wiping another set of tears away. "I know." He gave Dean a look indicating be strong as he wrapped his brown leather jacket around the boy's shoulder. "What do you think of that?" he asked.

"Your jacket..." He looked up wide-eyed, questioning the gesture.

"Your jacket," John corrected, helping to pull Dean's small arms in the oversized sleeve. "You'll have to grow into it, but I think you're man enough." He snuck in a hug as he pretended to fix the collar around Dean's neck.

After a few more moments of awkward, but welcome, comfort, Dean pulled away seeing for the first time that Sam was swinging from Bobby's arm like he was on a playground swing. A wry smile spilled over Dean's features.

"I'm TARZAN!"

"Do I look like a tree?" Bobby gritted good-naturedly.

The young boy squished his mouth, squinted one eye, and let out a snort out before he spoke.

"Don't answer that." Bobby suggested.

"Sam, get down before you break your neck." John ordered. "No one wants you hanging off of them."

"Nah, he's tough Dad, real tough."

"In any case, I have to be heading out now that you boys are okay." Bobby noted, lowering Sam down a bit until the child stopped using him as a playground.

Sliding out of his perched, Dean rushed, as best as he could, towards Bobby, falling into and hugging the man's waist. "Stay…"

"I can't… got things to do. Anyway, you don't need..." Bobby inspected the way John seemed ill amused at the boy's attachment level.

"You can't go…" Dean interrupted. "You have nowhere else to go. You can be in our family!"

"Yeah, we 'dop' you." Sam second. "Told ya, Dean."

"Adopt." John corrected, actually amused for some reason.

"Ahhhh, boys... I..." He pried Dean's arms loose and squatted down. "You have your road and I have mine."

"We only have one road." Sam said matter of factly. "We came up the same road on..."

"He doesn't mean like that." Dean instructed.

"What road does he mean?"

John and Bobby chuckled.

"Boys, I think you need to leave Mr. Singer alone. And I think it's getting close to your bed time."

"No." Sam demanded and glared at his father. "We have to dopt him," Sam said, adding the T sound this time.

"Yeah." Dean agreed, digging deep in his jean pocket. "I need a pen."

John stared back at them with a look of shock. For the moment he was simply grateful to give into anything the boy's wanted. As he handed Dean a pen, he had no idea that that simple act would forever bind Bobby to the Winchester family.

Quickly he scribbled, as if something might stop him from carrying out what he wanted. When he seemed satisfied, he glanced at the colored page, the same one he had forbid Sam from giving out earlier. When it was finally offered, Bobby was almost afraid to take it, but was more than happy he did.

He started down at the page, alive with all colors Sam had at his disposal and littered with misspelled word, which Dean had corrected. At the bottom Dean had added his name next to Sam's. The makeshift original certificate read:"Two day I dop Bobby. R family- Sam Winchester. With the changes made by Dean's hand it spoke to the bond that would last all their lifetimes. "Today and forever, we adopt Bobby as our family. Sam Winchester and Dean Winchester."

Bobby scooped them up in his arms, hugging them, John Winchester be damned if he didn't like it. At this moment a good punch from John would be worth the wonderful kindness in these two small boys.

"Bet you were a great Dad," Dean whispered the compliment as he nuzzled next to Bobby.

The boy's hugs were welcome, along with their kind word. Honestly, he missed these things. He had shut himself from everything and everyone that he forgot how magical the simplest things were. When he finally let go, he folded the paper carefully and shoved it in his pocket. John assumed thing were about to change for their family, but he would never know what Sam and Dean did that day.

"You going to stay?" Sam asked.

"I should go..."

"Dean. Sam. Bedtime."

"Awww!" Sam screamed, but Dean corralled the child towards the room, knowing John's patience with all of this might be thin.

His oldest child nodded and John noticed Dean pushing Sam forward. Suddenly John scooped up Sam, who was more exhausted then he let on. "Think you can grab Dean?" He asked Bobby.

Not that getting Dean to listen was difficult, but Bobby wondered why John was opening the door to him when it seemed to be the last thing he wanted. However, he tossed Dean up, carrying him back toward the room.

John easily swung Sam up easily on the big bed and Bobby followed the action with Dean. Dean shifted himself, stretching out his exhausted, aching legs. Turning to the side, he rested his head near his shoulder, letting the arm flop straight out. The brown leather jacket crumpled all around him in an excessive of material. Sam nuzzled closer, ill tempered at the barrier between him and Dean, trying to find haven next to his big brother.

"You're such a baby." Dean said, while he opened up the jacket flap, letting Sam curl and pulled the leather enclosure around Sam too. Sam's head poked out, resting on Dean's chest. Soon the youngest Winchester was fast asleep in the safety of his brother's jacket.

John stifled a laugh, but grew serious when Dean gave him a pained expression. Dean's arm extended outward, straight as a rod, trying not to move and wake Sam and reaching for John. Slender, rough fingers wrapped around John's hand, squeezing as hard as his strength would allow.

"I'm here." He began to comfort his son, but the grip didn't weaken.

Suddenly the hand, unencumbered by Sam, flew backwards, searching for added safety. The seeking appendage called out for acceptance and waved until it was grasped by Bobby. His arms were spread out, holding tight to both men.

"It's okay." Bobby said with a broken hearted look on his face. When he glanced up, he expected John to be unhappy to say the least, but what he saw was a man in just as much pain as his young sons. An air of defeat hung on John's shoulders, dragging him down. The only indication of hope curled on a smile he gave freely to Dean. As if that was the moment the young boy had been waiting for, Dean yawned, squeezing his eyes closed from the sheer size of the yawn. The portals didn't reopen, but half a tear hung in the corner, waiting for the opportunity to emerge.

John ruffled the boy's silken hair, comforting until his son to went to sleep. He stared for the longest time, every once in a while he glanced upwards at the newest edition to their "family". At first he wanted to make demands and set this man straight, but Dean's reaction and openness to this stranger were so rare. He expected anytime for Bobby to give him an "I told you so", but the next words were far from that message.

"Felt that way about my boy." Bobby placed Dean's hand down gently in a comfortable position, but when the boy whined, he cupped his hand over it again. Dean may have relaxed, but he was far from asleep yet.

Frozen by the thought, John gave Bobby an apologetic look. There was no longer amazement why Dean connected to this man. "Those damned things?" He asked.

"Yeah... Long story- best told with whiskey."

"They're not getting them." John demanded, holding back the glassy liquid in his eyes. His hand pulled from comforting Dean to brush away several disobedient tears. When the last were vanquished by the plaid shirt sleeve, he squeezed Dean's hand harder, hoping to find an anchor away from his pain. Slowly, he calmed and discovered the boy's grip had grown lax. Finally, his son was at rest.

He pressed his lips to Dean's temple in apology. "That's my little man. I'll always come back to you."

**NOW...**

Father Flanery knelt in the chapel, alone with his thoughts. As soon as Dean's tests were done, the group almost broke their necks to check on him and get an update from his doctor. When he took on this mission in life, he never imagined how involved he would get in the Winchester world, but helping them seemed to be just as much a calling.

As much as he hated to think about what must be done, he knew the time had come. With time on his own, things grew clearer. "Just as well..." He whispered. Without a beat, the nervous twitch of playing with his rosary stopped. "I can feel you watching me."

The door opened, swinging without manual power, moving as if possessed by a spirit. Slowly, an image appeared before the priest of Wain smiling broadly. "Hmmmph... I thought I was doing pretty well. Fooled Sam and Dean."

"Of that I am sure, but the games are over now. You know I've been around the block a few times. I can't let you interfere with things that are..."

"Don't spout scripture and fate to me. I can't walk away from this one when the stakes are so high."

"Messing in Earthly affairs is a dangerous game; even those with the best intentions find a special reservation in a special hell."

"Been there, done that, crawled out. I think the prize in this one is just a bit too high not to take the risk. And you're going to help me."

"I will not let ..."

"You already know you will. You just haven't admitted it to yourself yet."

* * *

**Author's note: Dear Readers, I am moving to a new apartment so the chapters will be a bit slower than normal. I have to get everything packed, moved, and settled. Not to mention the pesky reconnect to the internet once I get that done. I will be back to finish these and will try to update all the stories as soon as I can. Thanks for reading. Please make my day and review me! Those make me all sorts of giddy**


	19. Mixed Agendas

**fAuthor's note: I wrote this very quickly, so I hope there are not alot of typos. I should have my phone and new internet hooked up by Sept. 12th. But for the moment, I am glad to be updating. Special thanks to my pal for letting me but in on his internet!**

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* * *

**

NOW...

Just the corner of Wain's lip flipped up, almost like it wfas afraid to dare a full satisfied grin. He had to keep reminding himself that in the demon play field things turned despite the best laid plans and intentions. He leaned from beyond a beam to spy on his new target.

"Well, well, well- Long time, no see." A female voice echoed to him. "Come on out. We can have a little reunion."

"I have no intentions of a reunion. Pick a nice new skin, Armaros." Wain uttered. "You always did just go too far to stand out. Too much decadence."

"You say the sweetest things. You like my new place. It's prime market for the quality of my neighbors. Keeps me close to my boy." She twirled a thin chain attached to a broken locket in her spiny, boney fingers.

"I want Dean Winchester." He gritted the words out.

"Sorry, his dance card is full right now. But, I now see that you're the one interfering with my powers."

"I do what I can, but he helped me with that coma. Somethin' had to cut off some of your control."

"Ah... and you just swooped in like you always do."

"Learned a lot watching you vultures."

"Flattery will get you nowhere."

"And clichés won't get you crap either. I want Dean and now or else."

"Please! You have no power over me. Nothing you could possess in the past, present, or future will ever be as powerful as the strength I have gained. He's mine."

"He's fighting you right now. Knows about you."

"He still can't win. He will have to obey me when I call, no matter what."

"Give him to me and I'll spare you. Let you run."

"Phbbht... hmmm... you learn nothing. You can't harm me."

"Yeah, but I know what can. Release the contract to me and you might live to see hell again."

* * *

**Then...October 1989**

TICK!

TICK!

TICK!

Each second passed infinitesimally slow as the emerald eyes stared expectantly at the hands of the clock. Dean vaguely heard the teacher dole out a last minute assignment that he would never do. School was for normals and he already knew he wasn't normal.

Tick! As the 3:00 p.m. bell rang, Dean startled even though he had been waiting on that bell with more anticipation than a kid does for their birthday. He rushed from his seat, pushed out the classroom door, and sprinted to the outside playground.

As the other kids loaded into buses and parent cars, he slid carefully in between the two connect buildings. The old school had been modernized some time ago with the new construction butted against it, save for a narrow access to the old building's heating system. Someone had some forethought that things could go wrong and worked it into the design.

He scooted in the narrow crevice, scooting under the duct work until he reached the old roof access ladder. It was so useful anymore to staff and the janitors. They could just climb the internal stairs and, of course, they had keys. Dean had access to neither, but this old metal thing would do. Climbing as silently as he could, he huffed from the effort. About halfway, Dean could see most of the school grounds, but he seldom looked at the world below. Except today, he only stopped a moment to watch the other kids laugh, giggle, swap stories, and gossip about television.

"Just one friend would be nice." He said, but knew he would never have that life. There were always more important things for him to do. He didn't have time between classes to chat. He didn't have time to make friends at lunch. He didn't have time to join sport teams or debate teams. With those regrets in his mind, he scampered higher until his boots hit the packed gravel on the rooftop. Each day he found he liked the pop of the grey jagged rocks beneath his feet. That sound always took him to the one person who loved him more than anything.

Across the roof, he spied the stairwell door open and started to sprint. Reeling, he wanted to scream to shout, but then he would get caught and things would be a lot worse.

"SAM!" He risked it.

"Yeah." A small sweet voice answered.

"Are you okay?" He skidded to his knees and he pulled open the stairway door.

"Yeppers!" Sam yelled, hugging Dean.

"But the door..."

"I got hot. And the other door is always locked."

Stressed shoulders dropped when Dean realized his little brother was safe. "Don't scare me like that!"

"When can I go to school?"

"Next year."

"I want to go now."

"We'll you are in a way." Dean had carefully planned out how to check on Sam in his class schedule. Timed restroom breaks, during lunch, and in between classes. He had even forged a good doctor's note about frequent bathroom breaks. His best work so far he thought. Not too bad for a kid. The school never even questioned it. He supposed they were more suspicious of parent notes about skipping school. Either way he spent more time with Sam than he did in class. "I bring you books and stuff don't I?"

Sam merely nodded. "AND lunch. I like the pizza."

"Schools like that but with bigger and bossier teachers."

"Bossier than Dad?"

"Big time."

"Ready to go? Thought we would stop by that ice cream place today before home."

"Won't Dad be mad?"

"He's workin' today. Won't be back for until tomorrow morning. So, if we're late... He'll never know."

"YEEAAAA! ICE CREAM!" Sam exclaimed then realized he was supposed to stay quiet.

"Dude, it's cool. You can talk now. The buses are leaving. Let's get a banana split with whipped cream."

"And cherries," Sam added. "Extra, extra cherries."

Dean nodded his head in humored disbelief. "Okay, jump on my back and we'll climb down."

"I don't wanna."

"Tough!" Dean grabs hand.

"I can climb on my own."

"You want that ice cream, right?"

"Yeah."

"Okay then. You have to listen to me."

While Sam inspected Dean for signs that the older boy would crack if he just whined hard enough, Dean stared down relaying his determination for his baby brother to obey. Neither of them noticed the distance clang of footsteps on the ladder rung. Even if they had, they had no other means to escape. The old inner access stairs were locked to keep kids out. And only a few people knew about the ladder in between the school building and the education offices. But, Dean made it his business to know.

They were still deep in amused discussion when a raven haired woman popped up, landing harshly distantly into the gravel. That sound- Dean knew that sound well and his attention snapped faster than it had before. At first, he thought some teacher had found them and his mind was already thinking of convenient excuse. However, he didn't recognize her.

"Just the boy I was looking for!" She exclaimed. A strange twinge of greed flashed in her eyes, which slicked over in a pale orange color, glowing in a taunt.

These were the things in Dean's bad horror and skiff movies, but up close it struck shivers over the bones in his spine, letting them all fall rigid and ready. He balled his fist.

"Dean?" Sam muttered. "Is that a teacher? I'm scared."

"When I say now, you run. Go to the special place. Tell Dad Bad Company Remember? We'll come for you. Only open the door for me or Dad. Got it?"

Sam simply nodded. Fear and worry thick in his eyes.

"You sure you can climb down?"

"I wanna to go with you."

"Please..just please…run for me. I don't want this teacher to get you in trouble too. I... I'll come as soon as I can. I need you to be safe."

"Is she a bossy teacher?"

"The bossiest." Dean lunged forward driving his head into the woman's abdomen. "Go SAM!"

He punched with all his might, not really caring where he landed a blow as long as it bought Sam time. His ears perked up, listening to the little legs run across the gravel and finally to the metallic ladder rungs.

Satisfied that Sam was halfway down, Dean began to kicked. Just as his foot connected with the woman's shin, she waved her hand with a sweeping motion, driving him backwards to the sharp stones.

"My, my, my feisty. You are quite the little fighter."

Pushing forward, he readied for a second assault, but found he couldn't move.

"Take a load off... on me! So to speak. Please, you can't stop me." She crossed to him, hunched down, and gently stroked his cheek.

"You can't have him!" Dean yelled.

"My sweet boy," she slithered off her tongue. "I don't want Sam. I came for you. Don't you remember me?"

"NO...no...you can't be..."

"Did you miss me?"

**Now...**

"Hey Padre! Why so pale?! Looks like you seen a ghost." Bobby bellowed jovially.

"Nothing... just... tired. Tending to the flock is a full time job. But, I imagine you keep some long hours yourself."

"Amen and pass the ammunition." Bobby chuckled.

"Where's Sam and Miss..."

"She took the kid to make him eat. Said if Dean woke up and saw him lookin' like a dang skeleton, he would get worse than hell. She's right. Dean will skin him for not takin' care of himself. Not that Sam ate much before, but he's been preoccupied. We covered this place from stem to stern."

"Wise woman. A bit bossy."

"And she does seem to get her way."

"Any more messages from Dean?"

"Not a lick, but he's in there kickin' as hard as he can. Ah hell, that boy never opens his yap at the right time." He chuckled. "But, I'd do anything..."

"He knows. I suspect he knows more than he ever would say. That brief moment of contact meant so much to you all."

"Yeah, and I don't know how he did it. All that kids been through, most would have laid down and wanted to die."

"He has a greater mission in this life. More plans in store than he knows."

"Then they need to pick someone else. Not him. He's..." Bobby stopped. "He's had more than his share."

"Which is often the case."

"We'll just have to find a way to get him back."

The priest looked pale as his mind reeled on what he was about to do.

"Padre? You okay?"

"Yes, my son. I..." He glanced over at Dean. "I wondered how far you would go to get him back?"

"Show me the mountain and I'll climb it."

"What if it means doing something you know might break the rules and..."

"Rules were made to be broken. Damn, that sounded like John Winchester. Don't tell the boys! Eh?"

"I won't. I've just been thinking. Demons like to watch, right?"

"They tend to light the fuse just to watch the flash and bang."

"Would it not reason the demon would want to be close and have access to Dean?"

"Sam tested all the doctors and nurses. We been over that angle. He'll I tested Sam and he tested me just to be on the safe side."

"Are they the only new people in Dean's..."

"Other than you...and we darn near drowned you in holy water."

"Didn't Sam say he had a psychic..."

"I plum forgot about him. Scam artist of some sort. He skulked around a few times, but fizzled out. Don't know why he escaped my mind. Seems unlikely to be demonic as I found him in my research."

"Perhaps he wanted to be found."

"That Wain Etchers guy...Padre you might be on to something. We should at least rule it out. WHY DIDN"T WE THINK OF THAT. We can't be that far off our game."

"Perhaps, this presence has a way to cloud its intentions. If it has the power to enslave Dean's soul, maybe it can affect you as well."

"No time like the present. You comin'"

"Go on. I have much more work to do. I have a dear friend in great need. I am not too sure if he will make it and I want to make his passing as easy as I can."

"Last Rites and such."

"More like a guide and a comfort. Go on now. We both have our parts to play in the grand scheme of things."

Not waiting for the sentence to finish, Bobby dashed to find Sam with the new lead while the priest watched him vanish around the corner corridor.

"God, forgive me."


	20. Disturbed

**

* * *

**

Author's note: I am typing this as fast as I can, so if you see any really huge confusing or typos, let me know. I try not to post without at least one reading, but my lack of computer access has killed my research.

**Anyway, this chapter has some suggestive stuff, so I don't know if you'll be disturbed. Course that is the point of this update for Dean. Only four more chapters to go until all the pieces come together. Thanks for sticking with me. I know this is emo and complicated with lots of unanswered questions still out there about who wants Dean for what and what part certain characters play. I hope that at the end you enjoy the resolution and the other things to be revealed. And to think this started out as such a small idea that ballooned into an almost novel. Bless you for taking the time to continue.**

**Oh, and I still have no internet installed at my new place- phone company is taking forever!**

* * *

**Now...**

"I don't plum understand it. When I did the research before…. this Wain guy popped up all over the place like a bad penny. Almost stumbled over his name every few seconds like at trapped deer in the headlights."

"I'm just amazed you used a computer. We always thought you got most everything from some dusty book." Sam offered trying to make himself and his friend feel better. In truth all of them had missed it. Even Dean didn't see the Wain as a danger, Sam reasoned.

"DUDE! I am so kickin' your unperceptive ass later. Come on it's four letters…WAIN! Winchesters are good with all thing four letters. You're turning into an old fart.

"Shows what you know." Bobby muttered.

"We're old, not dead." Missouri offered. "I swear some of Dean's charm must be rubbing off on you."

"One can only hope!" Dean smarted. "Hey at least I can say what I want now. Ummmmm… HELL CRAP DAMN BITCH.. uh…"

"Then we would all be trouble." A smile might have cracked on his face had Dean's name not pained him.

"He's resting now. Wherever the darkness is, it's occupied. I can try if you want, but I thought it best to leave him be."

"Hey, I'm over here. Stop me if you heard this one. There once was a girl with a bucket… anyone… come on this is A list material. Can you just get Wain and let me out of this bed."

"Yeah, he needs a little peace. All this time he has been fighting without me and I had no idea..."

"We had no idea." Bobby corrected.

"Well, Wain's information is faker than the Mothman.

"Wait, the Mothman is real! I saw him with Bigfoot on a bus with Elvis!"

"Looks like we've been played and by someone who is good at this game."

"I just can't shake the feeling that all of this... This game is... like someone knows all our weakness and is playing up it. Why else would Wain set him up as psychic?"

"Cause if we didn't contact you, then we would have never known Dean was in there, trying to make it."

"We're not gonna take it, we're not going… you're killing me here!" Dean thought in exasperation.

Missouri huffed, thinking aloud. "But to cover every angle. It just seems too easy. Sam could have easily contacted Dean with the powers I saw in him..."

"Those are gone."

"Oh honey, the sense doesn't just..."

"Mine does!" He demanded.

"Well pissin' in the wind and speculatin' is doin' jack crap for us. I still have the printouts and the bonus- several of 'em list an address."

"The thing wanted to make sure we called him to help Dean," Missouri offered slyly. "You'll have to forgive me for feeling a bit please by using that to give it a taste of its own medicine."

"Damn straight. I ain't too fond of being conned. No demon has been able to do that since my wife…."

"Bobby." Suddenly Dean wanted to them to hear him louder than ever. "I'm…"

"I fell for it to. He played it perfectly. Got to open up about Dad and saw all that weakness."

"Loving your family isn't weakness. If anything it gave him pause to how powerful you family bond is. Now, don't make me slap you upside that thick head.

"No ma'am." Sam smiled at Missouri, wondering is she really would smack him a good one. "I won't fail him this time. I just can't let him sacrifice for me anymore. I just wish I knew about what happened to him when this demon…"

"John never told me the full story. Only he and Dean can answer that, but I gathered it was bad. Took his childhood innocence from him."

"I always thought Dad trained it out of him."

"You're Daddy was a lot of things, but he wasn't that heartless." Missouri offered. "You have to understand. John and Dean- Part of them went through so much… it destroyed part of them. But, the wanted better for you. Why do you think they…"

"I never wanted that. I…. I… Guess I am not a smart as I think I am."

"Hey, that's my brother you're talking about."

Suddenly, Sam snapped around, sensing something.

"What's wrong?"

"I… I just ... Sounds stupid, but I could have swore he was about to say something to me."

"We could use a comfortin' word right now." Bobby noted.

"Yeah, but this was more like a comment of general defiance."

"Same thing, comin' from him."

Shrugging, Sam ignored the instinct, but Missouri eyed him, smiling.

* * *

**Then...**

Slick liquid amber dropped in a steady drip from the open hole in the wallboard, hanging precariously to wooden support beams in the ceiling. Slow the rain drowned the area in a saturation until another drop crashed stained rain water atop Dean's greasy, dirty hair, cleaning away some of the filth. The blonde locks long took on a shade of grey from dust and the black smoke pouring from the wood burning stove in the corner. His bangs plastered to his forehead almost hanging in his eyes, blocking his view of his surroundings. Not that there was anyone or anything he wanted to see in this place. For the moment, sleep had taken finally kidnapped him to a moment of safety.

Rippling and soaking the same patch of brown rings, the water above him pooled another drop, crashing on the same strands of unwashed hair. The next splash awakened him into the rude reality of his situation.

It wasn't so much the idea of being wet that bothered him. He was already soaked to the bone below the waist. If it was simply a matter of being splashed, Dean would dare to say he would have slept on, but it was the drive for preservation that wouldn't let him. Perhaps it was animal instinct to survive no matter what the odds or John's training pushing him to live. However, several days without a drop to drink and the smallest dribble became more than precious.

He wasn't sure how long he had been chained to this wall, but at some point he had lost consciousness and slid down on his side, leaving his forearms and wrist to bear all of his weight. His arms overstretched high above his head, chained tightly around his wrists

He managed to raise himself to an almost sitting position, resting his back against the wall and sliding his legs out on the floor. Even that small movement released some pain and pressure on his body. The next drop landed just below his right eye, streaking down like a real tear.

Even though the water itself was tainted by contact with the building materials and only heaven knows what on the rusted tin roof, Dean arched his abdomen forward, moving his head backwards to let the next splatter slide down his throat. The acidic taste of metallic water became welcome in his dry mouth as survival was key in this situation.

With this increase in his awareness, his eyes began to blink from the smell of his own stench. Showers aside, no toilet access for the past week became a major issue. The constant sting from the wet heat on his legs burned from the acidic soak of neglect. Yet, he found himself praying that would be the only pain he felt today, but realistically knowing it wouldn't be.

Every day it was some new torture. The demon toyed and batted him around as a cat would a dead mouse-needlessly, just because she could. At first, she didn't tell him what she wanted, but the escalation to her game could only mean that plan was coming soon. Even he could figure that out.

"Dean. That is so beneath you. If you want a drink all you have to do is ask."

He knew her game, only giving him food or water when it suited her to keep him alive. He didn't return her taunt, only focusing on the next drop forming.

Armaros turned, mildly surprised the boy had revived so soon. His resilience was better than a cockroach. Silently she wondered what approach she would use to break her subject today. In some weird way, she took it on like a science experiment on the human spirit. Many means lay at her disposal- anger, torture, insults, manipulation, kindness, and a host of other mind control techniques ran through her playbook.

Yet it always seemed best to get the person she sought to control to engage and speak to her just before she ravaged them with some sort of physical and often mental abuse. Even the slightest verbal response was an indication the boy was opening to her. She would make cutting comments until she gained a rise from him and more often than not Dean met her with his usual stoic silence, bearing her taunts better than any many before him. For that she had to give him a smidgeon of credit, but that only meant the prize of having him was sweeter.

After the taunts, she would hit some taboo subject and say just the right things to touch a nerve, which would incite Dean to snap back with a quip, often clever and well beyond his years. As the days progressed his comebacks were not as witty- another sign of this mind wearing down. Resistance would have worried most demons, yet she found it exhilarating, envisioning what her little solider would be capable of now and in the future. Any defense he put up would crumble easily and she would dominate the direction she led him. He would lock inside himself as if he left his body during the most extreme sets of torture. That only meant she had to inflict more pain until she gained his attention. She could feel the child spiraling to the point of surrender and soon even the small part of him hanging on would shatter. So far, he had stopped himself from going over, yet even that would end soon. Dean would soon be a pawn for whatever dark desire she deemed fit to include him in.

"Your spirit is stronger than I expected. That came from mom didn't it?"

"Go to hell!" Dean glared in youthful defiance.

"Scared little one?"

"I'm not little! Dad'll show you ..." Dean may not have been trembling, but he was filled with fear. A few days with his demonic host had provided torment beyond his young imagination.

"Not a child! You're calling for your Daddy right now. Proof that you are indeed a squalling child."

The boy simply glared, trying to project the warrior his father taught him to be. He hated these demons with every fiber of his being and his core burned with an unequivocal demanding hate.

Then as if on cue, she strutted to a table, pouring a fresh glass of water. "Wouldn't you like a real drink of FRESH water? That can't be as good as this." She mouthed off as another dirty drop slid down Dean's gullet.

"No." He offered his response softly as if to say that didn't matter.

Not to be outdone, she picked up a fresh piece of orange, bit into it, and licked her lips. She had already received one rise in anger tonight, surely another would occur soon. She let her lips suction over the fruit, making as much noise as possible as she ate. Then when the show was finished, she wandered towards Dean. He turned away, but she grabbed his chin forcing him to look at her. Rubbing the small fruit offering over Dean's crack lip, a small drop of juice coated over the flesh.

"Cooperate with me and this can all end. I have all the time to do this the hard way and the patience. You on the other hand can only hold out so long on tainted rain water and no food. Stop fighting me and this will go easier."

If her words were not frightening enough, her appearance was unnerving as Hell. Being this close to her, jack hammered fear inside of Dean's veins. And he just couldn't stave off the twitch in his nerve endings, firing in alarm every time she glared at him through hollow orange eyes, which seemed to glow when she was satisfied with her progress.

She broke open the orange slice and let the juice cover his parched lips. "Just one bite. That won't hurt will it?"

"No... I won't."

"Just relax and accept my favor or the pain will continue and I'll own you just the same."

She forced the fruit inside of Dean's mouth, and as much as he wanted to spit it out, the growl of his stomach forced him to swallow. With that one bite, his empty belly cried out for more, demanding sustenance.

"That wasn't so hard. It can't hurt to eat can it? What can I do with a simple piece of fruit? You know all the things John taught you are wrong. He lied. He's the one responsible for her death. You eat for him and he has lied to you with each step. Surely a small piece of fruit can't be all that dangerous. I can't hurt you with that. How is that bending your will? We can be friends. I can give you the one that hurt Mommy."

With a snap, he turned away, his eyes darting towards the food even though he would not ask for it. In that one instance, the demon gained more ground than Dean realized. Just like a prisoner of war, she would break him. What she didn't tell Dean was she needed him weakened or complacent before she could do anything. Still, the demon had plenty to time to accomplish what she wanted.

"Why don't you just relax and let me take away all that nastiness."

Instead of relaxing, he struggled wildly. "STOP!!" Banging his back against the wall and tugging at his wrist restrains, still attached to a chain skewered in the wall. The metal irons dug deep, ripping open two jagged lines on each appendage.

"Oh, well, I offered. Since you won't play like a nice boy, I will have to do it the hard way, which is always my preference. More fun. Now, I need something from you." Without another word, she pulled back a punch, smacking Dean in the mouth, letting a trickle of blood dribble down his chin. "Let's see... Blood and oh... yes... something that is precious to you."

"Good luck." Dean laughed, spitting out the iron taste of blood that had seeped in his mouth.

"I don't need luck when I have this." Holding up a slender chain, Armaros let a locket dangle in Dean's face.

"I'm going to kill you." Dean promised.

"Such courage! I always love a challenge. Does John even know you stole this?"

"Give it back!"

"Or what?"

"I'll kill you. I swear to my mom, I'll kill you all!"

"Oh, but you're wrong, in so many ways, you're so wrong." She wiped the blood on his lip with her finger. "Hmm... still not enough."

"Give the necklace back."

Ignoring the boy, she pulled a pocket knife, pressing the sharp edge to Dean's arm, slicing a neat thin line. "Do I have to do everything myself! I only asked for a little blood." The demon chimed.

Dean screamed and flung profanity so fast the words echoed indistinguishable at some points. "GIVE IT BACK!"

"It's not even yours. It's Mary's. You stole it."

"It's mine."

"Touchy, touchy," She mocked, dangling the open locket near his face for a second before smearing it in the cut on his arm. "There that should be enough. What do you think?" She offered him a view of Mary's locket again.

When the heart-shaped locket passed close to him, he made a grab for it. His bound hands made it impossible to gain a grip, breaking the front clasp off from the whole. A small gold heart ended up in his hand. He moved for it again, but found it too far from his reach.

"Now look what you've done. I don't need all of it to do what I need, but now you have broken all that is left of Momma."

"STOP IT!"

"I won't ever stop until I want and that could be forever and I'm sure it will be. I'll use every ounce of you until your rotting away like countless others. But, I do wonder if you are immune to physical pain." Armaros ran a finger over Dean's bruised cheek and split lip and then pressed against the fresh cut.

The defiant smile had left Dean's eyes now as his eyes danced on the remains of the locket and his confined hand clasped tightly over the portion he recovered.

She began a complicated drawing just in front of him, placing the blood stained locket in the center of a symbol that Dean had yet to learn, all the while mouthing a few words in Latin. "Now, let's continue shall we..."

For several seconds, Dean didn't notice the small item in her fingers, but she carefully displayed the unopened oack of men's razor blades for him like an archeologist would awe over the next big discovery. A very elaborate show began as she took a single blade from the box, unwrapped it and let is shine in the fire light. She sliced the waxed paper that had once covered its edges as a means of protection, emphasizing how sharp it was. Finally, she grasped the thin, sliver blade in between her thumb and index finger.

"I always find that the ones that hurt the most are the shallow ones."

The first strike sliced just below Dean's neckline. The slim blade didn't do any deadly damage, but left a small, slender painful nick in Dean's skin. Her main goal was not to kill him, but inflict terror and pain. Initially, he wouldn't give her the dignity of a response. Her eyes danced with pleasure despite his lack of reaction. She retrieved her pocket knife, using it to cut away his filthy clothes and exposing his chest. As the goose pimples coated his flesh she began a maddened pace of nicks and cuts with the razor on any exposed area.

Dean perched his lips closed, taking it all in, thinking of his mother, Sam, and his Dad. How he hoped one of them would come for him, but he doubted he was important enough for that. He had done what his father asked and protected Sam. That was all he was meant to be and now that was all over. He couldn't even protect himself. Still, he silently begged for his father.

All the while, her hands worked the blade in numerous passes over Dean's flesh, slashing indiscriminately until she got to the base of his jeans. He shivered with not only fear and dread, but his throat and mind latched onto repulsion. If he hand any food to offer, his stomach would have retched as the demon gave him an unsettling look. He opened his mouth in a soundless scream, tears wanting to stream down his face, if he could make any in his dehydrated state. He fought, writing against the bonds clasped around his wrists, even though they ripped into his flesh.

"Don't!" He managed to breathe out the word.

"I think I hit a nerve," She whispered loudly in his ear. "Does that make you feel good?"

"NO... leave me alone, you sick bitch." He spoke with eyes wild with conviction that he didn't truly possess.

The fire of fight returning to him. In the moment of heat, he tried to draw himself up, eyes shining with determination. He cried out in pain as the bonds tightened and stabbed into his wrists. For a moment, it looked like he might break free and beat his captor to death, but the most he could managed was to flash a expression of disagreement.

"You do remember our fun times together. I'm very touched."

So much of him wanted to tell her to go to hell again, but the words wouldn't form as he was pulled closer to her. "NO..."

She was struck with a sudden urge to shock Dean from the comforts of the normal. She inclined his head and kissed Dean boldly on the lips, making him relive some of that night long ago. She was rough and forceful, tearing into Dean's dry lips.

Dean reacted marvelously, eyes shooting wide and pushing away with any strength reserve he had. He writhed and fought, but she didn't stop until a defeated moan tore from somewhere inside and lodged in the young boy's throat.

When she stopped, she licked her lips before she spoke. "So very sweet. I can make you feel things you never."

"Get away from me!" Dean screamed bashing violently, moving every part of his body to defend his captive self.

Armaros felt hot and primal as she did in the day at the beginning when she positioned herself to straddle Dean's legs, only to brutalize him more with her razor blade. There were no lines of decency in the demon world- no rules- and no remorse for the depths of depravity that could be inflicted on humans.

"You are getting older now and soon you will know the pleasure I can offer you and you will beg for them."

"No...never... "

"Oh, you aren't very accepting of my good nature. Guess you need a new incentive." She ran her tongue over his color bone, ascending upwards until she nibbled on his ear. He trashed wildly, protesting her. "Not the rise I was looking for but it will do."

When that wasn't enough, she wrapped her hands around Dean's throat, squeezing covetously around the slender windpipe with Dean attempting a defense beneath her. It only intensified her pleasure.

Her fingers whitened, bringing Dean close to his last breath. As his struggles lessened, she slackened her grip to bring him back from the black edges. Without fail, Dean gasped, his lungs demanding and clawing for air. He arched up weakly and desperately as if asking for mercy from one not capable of such an act.

Meticulously, she examined the heavy heaving and coughs the boy emitted as his eyes fluttered, grabbing at consciousness. She ran a finger tip over his lip, cleaning a small trickle of blood from the corner, and waited for him to react again. This time she felt his body flinch in protest, but unable to volley a real defense now.

He was pale, with sticky blood oozing from all over. He tried to stifle any noises, but every whimper or groan took on its own energy as if screaming into life.

"Still want to fight me?"

"Why me?" Dean offered simply and weakly, expressing the need for a reason for all of this like a scaring ache.

Armaros was unconcerned with explanations and logical. Her only interest lied in how close Dean was to giving up. "I can make all the pain go away just as soon as you ask. All you have to do is let me."

"Never...nev..." He snapped in an animalistic snarl. He wanted to say more, but a glassy film seemed to shield his eyes.

"I'm afraid you're already too late." She lied. "Awww... so tired. You are stronger than anyone ever dreamed. That's why you're so dangerous to our grand plan- That jaded undying edge of yours. You understand I need insurance to be the victor in all of this. I have no claim on Sam, but you do. One well placed spy to tip the balance in my favor. Right now, I need for John Winchester to die and you are going to do it."

"Nnn..." He met her eyes for a brief second, but his lips found no works. The dark oblivion of unconsciousness welcomed him back to its gentle embrace.


	21. Carve

**THEN... November 1989**

"I'd ask you to be reasonable and cautious, but I know your nature too well-like asking a scorpion not to sting. You know this could be an elaborate trap." Frowning in concern, Pastor Jim found his fingers leafing the edge of a hymnal over and over, flicking the pages just as a way to keep his own voice calm. His haunches perched against the back of a pew as he tried not to add anymore worry to John's mind while trying to be exceptionally rational for his friend. Times like these tested Jim's faith more than anything. It was hard not to notice the heave in John's shoulder, bent by the pressure and panic of not having Dean with him. "Your son needs you to be…"

"That thing's had him for 2 weeks! I've tracked it from one coast to another."

"We've tracked it and we still have no idea what's been done or why this demon took him." He reasoned. "At least let me call others who would help. I have a friend Caleb…."

"No waitin'. That damn thing has my boy. He's my son. I won't..."

"I'm not suggesting that we take no course of action," Jim placed a hand on his song book and prayed that this would all turn out okay. "I just want you to be ready if..."

"Don't even finish that if you want to keep standing..."

Knowing John's threats well, Jim pressed onward, risking a punch if necessary. "Going off half prepared will do little good. You aren't going at this alone either. You may shun the assistance of others, but that game doesn't work with me. You should learn something from Dean. That kid…. saving the others… You just can't see it. Can you? You saving them… gives him great hope. It's so simple for him."

"And that means jack shit to him now! Will all that save him? Where are these assholes now… will any of them help him."

"You forget too easily, John Winchester. All you have done-learned has been from others. You would still be stabbing blindly in the dark without people pulling back on the veil of what's out there. While I understand your bitterness, you must learn patience. And don't mistake my intentions and wisdom for not having faith. For with God all things are possible."

"What has God ever done!?"

"He gave you Sam and Dean, and those boys are the refuge from the darkness. Sometimes for us all. I know Dean is strong and heaven knows I want….I…" Even Pastor Jim couldn't face the words that Dean may have left them- be dead somewhere by demon hands.

"He'll be okay. He's a tough kid." John said, trying more to convince himself than Jim.

"Since I cannot sway you and there is nothing you can say to sway me from my own mission."

"I need you here to take care of Sam." John suggested, thinking of what he was going to do to the damned thing that took Dean and that no one should be around to see it.

"And if you end up dead… that leaves the boys where and with who…. I can't in good conscience stand idle and let you go alone. Not when you head is up your own rear end. In any case, Sister Agnes will watch over him and I have other friends who would help you on this journey. Don't let the evil control you. You walk that narrow edge too much."

"It means nothing if I don't have them. Can't you see that… my boys… they took my Mary and all I have of her is them. Sometimes I look at Dean and I feel so disgusted with myself. I see her and I have to turn away. And he's always there to tell me it's okay. Just knows when I need that push."

"Then be sensible now. What would that child want of you?"

"For me to save him."

"Then do it. The time for vengeance will come…"

"So help me if you say vengeance is mine sayth the Lord, I will…"

"Hmmm… good to know I have had some influence on you." Jim chuckled. "So I need not tell you what you already know. Although I can recommend some chapter and verses for you. Don't shut down on us. None of this is bound to help Dean."

"I don't need friends. See what happened when you let people in and try to give them a normal life. The damn demons the chance to get ahold of my boy. I send him to school and this happens. I don't need anyone's help."

"I am afraid you have no choice in this matter. As I have told you, my fate is tied to yours. You know what the demons believe about your children."

"Lots of bullshit."

"I pray that is true. I would prefer they be away from all of this, but the facts lead me to believe they will fight for us all one day. And I pray that stand is made together."

"All I care about right now is getting to Dean."

"As do I."

"ME TOO! Dad, are you going to get Dean?" Sam muttered excitedly said from under one of the pews. His small face peeked out, barely noticeable as he hid just under the wooden seat while he peered up at his father just through the space at Jim's feet.

"Samuel Winchester! Were you listening?" Jim scolded playfully, trying to put on a charade for Sam's sake.

"I guess," he confessed as he crawled out to face both men. A sheepish look sculpted on his face while he glanced down at his tennis shoes. "I wanna go. I wanna see Dean. Why didn't he come back like he promised?"

"Not now!" John barked.

As the anger unleashed off his frustrated tongue, Sister Agnes rushed inside just in time to give Sam a stern look and John a more severe one that could crack the stone face of a gargoyle. She hurried so fast her habit swished like a maddened bell when she walked. Quite obviously Sam gave her the slip, which gave John little confidence that she could protect Sam at all; much less control the five-year-old. Sam was growing more defiant and eager every day. By the time she had Sam back in hand, the young boy had grown teary-eyed with confusion.

"But, I wanna see Dean. He promised."

"Hush now," the Sister prompted softly, morphing to a softer expression. "I'm sure Pastor Jim and your father can understand that, but we need to be here to welcome him. We can make him a welcome party…"

"I think we all should take it easy." Jim reminded. "Dynamite in hell would be less likely to go off." He directed the last comment to John with a carefully timed eyebrow arch.

Mainly, John wanted to take all the words Jim had said along with the pain and shove them down the nearest demon's throat until they gorged on everything they had done to his family, but no matter how hard he tried to be hardcore, one soft look from Sam and Dean was all it took for him to crumble. Even that could be dangerous in this business, but he wouldn't trade that weakness for the life it gave him. Now, Sam's teary eyes and longing for Dean stopped that temper from exploding. He sighed, realizing his anger was severely ill placed.

"Son, I'm sorry." He bent down on his knees as if he might soon offer prayer, instead giving Sam a slight hug. "Think I just miss him too."

"The teacher... she was after me. I heard Dean say..."

"No...No. Dean's just in a special class right now cause..."

"I heard you. You're worried! He got hurt cause of me? Got in big trouble?"

"No, Sammy... There was just a little misunderstanding about how long he went on this field trip. Dean's coming home soon. Okay?"

"Don't lie."

"Dean's fine. I would never do that to you. He's too important to us, huh?"

Sam nodded, his face obviously full of longing for his brother. "Can I go? Please-pretty please."

"Sorry, you can't this time, but he'll be back with us soon. I swear it."

"Like Dean promised?"

"Has your brother ever broken one before?"

"No." Sam's bangs swayed as he nodded.

"Then he isn't going to start now. He takes good care of us… right….Come over here. I just have to go somewhere to get him. I'm sure he'll be good as new once he gets around his little brother. He loves you, you know that?"

"Really?"

"Hell yeah." John said just to goad Sister Agnes.

"Promise he'll come home?"

"Yeah, promise."

"Dad, I wanna see DEAN!" Sam cried buckets of tears.

"Me too, kiddo, me too. Just be strong until we get back." John's voice hitched. "Just for that long."

* * *

"Good night, sunshine. Mama's got work to do, but I won't be gone long. You might miss me." Armaros stroked Dean's dirty cheek, pulling his chin up to look at her as he hung his mother's locket around her neck for him to see.

At the moment, Dean was fully there, but he was on autopilot. "Not my mom...not my Mom..." Dean muttered, confusion and delirium gripped his mind. The only defense he had left was the instinct to deny and fight everything. In that small way he held on to control.

"Of course I am dear."

Pulling hard, Dean wiggled the chain anchored in the mortar and mumbled something in defiance that didn't really resemble speech.

"And I left you dinner." She laughed putting the food close enough, but still out of reach. "And you can think about my feelings while I'm gone."

Clenching his fist, he pushed the small piece of broken locket deep into his palm, nicking a small gash in his hand. Yet, he didn't care. That pain was so far beneath the things that he had experience. What was one more cut in a body marred by abuse?

"I have something very important to do and I'm not ready for my friends to know about you yet- ACTUALLY…" She stretched out the word and tisked her lips. "Actually- ever. Oh, poor little Dean. After all of this, you still don't want to let go. All you have to do it let this happen and you will be home again. You'll have Sam. I am just asking for a small price. Can you imagine a world where you can have anything you want at any time- no worries- no pain. A good life…. A playground for you forever and a place of power. All the things you have so little of now."

The boys shook his head, but it wasn't clear if he truly understood her promises. Internally, she noted it may be time to give him food to fortify him again. "Why don't you eat something while I'm gone?"

She moved the plate closer, relishing when Dean's stomach growled. He moaned, half alert and only alive by her whims and the smell of the food in front of him. "That's mama's little boy. You be good and when I get back you get your favorite special time with me."

Any words stole and frozen in the dryness of his throat. Instead, he spit in her face- an action telling her he would never give in.

"Now, that means you are going to have some punishment when I get home. Just what am I going to do with you?" With that she smiled, walking away from her prize, abandoning him for her next nefarious purpose.

Dean's eyes fluttered. His tiny body broke into cold sweats as her soft footsteps echoed away for him. Dean waited, letting the time pass slowly, hoping he could just not have pain for a single second. He longed for a place where he could rest as much as his heart desired- to eat as much as he wanted. He didn't hear another sound, but the food gleamed before him until he bent down, leaning as far as his bonds would permit, and dove head first to take a bite like a wild ravenous dog.

**NOW….**

Outside the day appeared sunny but the air crisped dewy crystals on the windows and the grass surrounding the three decade old brownstone. The white washed window panes had long stained grey by years of weather and mildew, but the intricate design of the ice bore them some semblance of new life. There was an inherent beauty about the way the ice crystals had formed in the window glass, still showcasing the detailed work of craftsmen years ago in a fresh way. Despite its age, the bricks and mortar stood proudly, even though the building festooned with dead overgrowth as nature conquered the creations of man. The twisted and clustered vines clung overtook stones and cracks like an uncontrolled plague, choking its victim to death. Yet, the leaves weren't meant to have a final victory this year as they were already turning crisp and discolored from winter's forth coming grasp.

Sam reminded himself that he had to be that cold now- to let his blood splinter and freeze when he first spied the building. He would have to as cold and calculating as these demons. So far being nice had gotten him squat- just like his old man told him it would. Sometimes he father did have some wisdom for him. God he wished John was here. His father would have been so much stronger and better at this. He would never hesitate. Sam was the one to stop and weigh if everything supernatural was evil, but maybe a small part of him wanted to believe there was goodness out there too. Goodness- BAH! He scrooged in his mind. If there was good, he hadn't found it yet. Nothing like watching your brother in pain to change your perspective of the world. Just when he found the newest and deepest low he thought they could reach, there always seemed to a darker and murkier mess just around the next curve.

Slowly, he drove, inspecting for any signs of a trap. The structure seemed devoid of light when he parked behind a silver van, propped up on cinder blocks with several part missing. Much like this lead, it was absent of several important pieces. If Wain controlled Dean, why would he keep him in a coma? Why would he even bother to show up to begin with and risk exposure? Wouldn't a demon smart enough and powerful enough to do this be wise to stay on the down low? Surely this whole game wasn't just one big demonic gloat? Of all the questions running in his mind, the largest had to be what motivated this demon to leave them clues to where he was or at least had been. This address was the only info they had and Sam didn't like the idea of feeling so foolish and stupid to be this far behind. Yet, the disappearance of Wain from the hospital seemed to support the man was playing some part in this game. And for the life of him, Sam couldn't figure out why he didn't sense this danger or notice it at the very least. Missouri shows up and all of sudden this faux psychic disappears. Inspector Gadget could have noticed even that.

"Stop beatin' yourself up." Bobby said, not really looking at Sam.

"How did you..." Sam finally said after being silent on the drive over.

"Cause he's doing it too. Pot calling the kettle black if you ask me." Missouri scolded.

"What can I say? Can't teach an old dog new tricks."

"Mmmmm..." She smiled. "And why don't I believe you?"

Sam sighed as he surveyed the surroundings with a detailed eye, searching for any sign of the otherworldly, especially Wain. Even the smallest indication would not go unnoticed as he panned back and forth, searching for the minutia. This time he was intent on being on top of his hunting game. He already knew Bobby was doing the same and Missouri had also opened herself to any vibe. Not finding any immediate concern, he stepped out of the Impala, followed shortly by his companions, adapting his long strides to keep pace with Bobby and Missouri.

"Seems quiet." Sam mumbled.

"Always hated quiet." Bobby added.

"No wonder you and Dean get along." Missouri smarted and then turned to Sam. "Ready for this?" she asked, reading the apprehension on Sam's face like some part of him wanted to be back with Dean in the hospital room.

"Can you ever really be ready?" Just as a reassurance, he pushed back his blue flannel shirt, exposing the hilt of Ruby's knife. Ever so briefly, he ran a finger over it, checking to make sure his insurance policy against demons was at his side. He would have preferred the Colt- less close quarter action that way and not half as messy. Since Lilith had that in her grubby, demonic paws, he had little choice.

"Something's here. I can feel the heaviness like before - so much stronger now. I don't know if this is good or bad, but something else is here. So close to Dean- everything intertwined."

"I can feel it too." Sam muttered.

"Thought that psychic stuff disappeared on ya." Bobby commented.

"It is... just...I can't tell you how, but I feel that we're on the right trail."

"Good nuff for me." Bobby suggested, but an air of apprehension clung to his features, never quite comfortable with the demon blood running inside of Sam.

"Be careful, this is powerful- dark as thing that killed your momma." Missouri warned.

"It'll die just the same. I'm so tired of Dean paying for all of this. It's not right."

Neither Bobby nor Missouri argued the statement. It was better for Sam to vent anger and frustration here than in the midst of battle.

"True. The kid's had it tough, but your brother keeps on swingin'... it's just his way. Let's keep our heads in the game like he would want. Once we get this Wain to answer a few questions, I'll feel a hella lot more settled." Bobby instructed as he reaffirmed the emotion behind Sam's wishes.

Missouri gave him a sly smile with a slight scoff. Bobby had just slipped Sam a warning wrapped up in a reassurance. If Sam noticed the seasoned hunter's intentions, he didn't acknowledge it. Instead, he crouched down, squeezed between the hedges, eased soundlessly through the brush, wiped away from for one of the windows, and peered inside to get a better view. Finally, he saw a small flicker of light- faint and deep inside one of the inner rooms- nothing more than a glow from some upper floor room. Even through the darkness within, Sam noticed the insides bragged of decadence- a stark contrast to the unkempt outside.

"Someone's using this place as a hold." He told his companions, who had joined him in casing the structure.

"And puttin' on the Ritz inside." Bobby gritted his teeth.

Shoving his way through the underbrush, while beckoning them to follow, Sam entered the structure. The floors felt sturdy enough and Sam stumbled briefly in the darkness until his eyes adjusted.

The entrance door opened to a large, formal archway. Throughout the house there were all sorts of beautiful things, horded in some strange museum. From the main room, a formal dining room offshooted. A complete table and service displayed across a seemingly never-ending formal table, set up as if the owner was expecting a party of thirty at any moment for dinner.

In contrast to the splendor of the interior and the multitude of treasures it contained, there was no electric light anywhere. Only candles littered the walls and floors in droves, most in a half burned state with puddles of wax anchoring them to an old wood floor. When Bobby leaned down to one, his fingers dipped close to one of the wicks.

"Stone cold. Don't think anyone's been in this room at least for hours. Hope that means they weren't expecting our company. Won't see us coming."

As much clutter as there was in this place, it would be hard not to hear a fly intruding. Every available space filled with priceless works of art, all framed- Degas, Rodin, Eschers.

"Hmmmph…" Sam shook his head. "A demon with a warped sense of humor- playing on an art masters name- Eschers- Etchers."

"Guess he wanted attention." Missouri noted.

"He's bout to get some." Bobby smiled broadly, "He should be more careful who he plays around with."

"Come on. You would kill him if he went after anyone." Sam noted.

"True, but it don't sit well when it's close to home. Never did and never will. Especially a pansy ass- she demon in a mansion."

"This place is enormous." Missouri glanced up to the high vaulted ceilings.

"And flashier than Vegas." Bobby whistled. "Half this stuff would fetch you a fortune. - Demonic Lex Luthor hording..."

"More like a demonic Martha Stewart if you ask me. This demon's vanity... it likes the notoriety of its position." Missouri asked. "Such pride in what can be possessed."

"Got that vibe did ya." Bobby wondered.

"No, just got enough sense to know a snob when I see one." Missouri countered.

"I'm more concerned by who it can possess." Bobby mouthed, not really bantering anymore, but thinking of a little boy he promised to protect years ago.

"He knows." Missouri whispered.

"Huh... oh... what...uh...knows what?"

"What do you think?" She said exaggeratedly.

"Oh...well...ain't time for stuff..."

"There's always time. And more often than not, Dean needs to hear it."

"Hear what? That he needs a swift kick in the pants?"

"Hmmm... you know that boy too damn well." She snickered.

Bobby pushed aside those thoughts, while Missouri wondered if Dean learned his smartass comments from Bobby, not that John was any better a role model in that arena.

"Where did all of this come from?" She asked, ignoring the drive to put Bobby on the spot again.

"Had to be here for years."

"Pride… Mementos..." Missouri offered. "I don't know why but it likes mementos." Suddenly, something caught Missouri attention, or possibly her inner senses.

"What's wrong?"

"Sickness, pure foul dark sickness. Dean… it's… "

Missouri held her head tightly, but her feet propelled her forward as if they knew where to go without her instructions. She wandered through the dining hall, straight into the oversized kitchen, and into a pantry the size of most master bedrooms. When the door opened the stench of rotting, oozing flesh welcomed them, filling their stomachs and throats with the disgusting sensation of bile. Sam pushed her back to block her from seeing anymore. One glance in the pantry was plenty.

Several corpses lay, in different levels of decay, carved in elaborate ways. Many were torn to shreds, maimed, and dismembered. All carved out with hollow eye sockets. Some had been dead for quite some time, probably well over a few months, but most were recent. All had Dean's name carved in their chest like a failed ritual.

"Sacrifices." Sam muttered.

"Desperate sacrifices." She said. "She's calling for the power of something darker and for some deeper purpose than we ever dreamed."


	22. Tug of War

**Then... November 1989**

As John and Jim entered the damaged hospital wing, the gutted remnants were cold and empty like the feeling in the pit of their stomachs. The bricks and cinder blocks had blown out in a tornado a few years before Dean had even been a notion in John's mind. John supposed people just wanted you to give up on lost causes like this place, but he wasn't giving up on Dean. No matter what odds, Dean would make it. He had to. There would be no good in John's world if that happened. There were so many secrets to tell and so much neither of his sons knew. And he wasn't entirely sure what he should even tell him. To place the burden on them would only take any hope of happiness from them. Excusing his silence, he told himself the boys deserved better.

Quietly, he walked and let the ideas shape horror inside his mind- a multitudes of what ifs and pleases mingling together. Each step took him deeper into the skeleton of the hospital. Every hallway looked more like a maze of debris, with very little shape and layout left. The east wing seemed to be the most structurally sound. They passed a dock where ambulances once brought in emergencies and several blown out windows. As they progressed no signs of life or demons crept from the darkness.

"Where's that bitch?" He grumbled, thinking he was too late and had lost he trail yet again.

"Have patience."

"Screw your patience."

Preaching was one thing, but for Pastor Jim preparation was another. Both men were overly armed with as many weapons, exorcisms, and holy water to battle a demon legion. "Maybe I should have said have a cool head."

John's temper may have flared more had the horrid stench decaying human flesh not assaulted the musty air until it was almost not breathable. The scent led them deeper to a waiting area now turned into a mass grave.

"In the name of God."

"Don't think you'll find you God in this one, Jim." John muttered more sad than sarcastic.

Death on his scale often took away John's bitter attitude, but Jim could tell the John was looking for Dean among the bodies.

"He's not here."

"How do you know?" John's voice shook.

"All the bodies are too big… he's not here. And take a gander at the chest cavity. It's hard to read but why do they all look like they have Dean's named carved in them."

"No… he wouldn't… he's okay."

The terrible scene glared like an omen to him. He wasn't sure how many bodies lay in the massive collection of tissue, blood, and bones. The dreadful stench had already begun. Rotting. Vomit inducing decay. A gulp caught in his throat. Fear that his son was involved somehow. That his son was alive, but the child he loved just as dead- a walking zombie. The Bodies so mangled it was impossible to tell where one body began and another ended. A silent screams hung on his lips, wondering what dark purpose the demon had in mind for Dean and what all this death could possibly mean.

Then he heard as scrape sound and what he thought was a whispering of his name, but Dean never called him John. Perhaps it was his imagination. However, he heard a rattle and a clang. That was enough for him to take off, not even aware if his friend would follow him and not really caring.

"John wait… we…"

He had never ran this fast before- never been so animal before. Maybe he wasn't human at all. Despite his harden façade, Dean always found a way to keep him grounded and be a link to the softer side of him. He loved both boys, but Dean looked at him with Mary's eyes. Sometimes he thought that boy would drink poison if it made life easier for his family. So tonight he moved with passion and a morbid vengeance not even a demon could imagine. He was a predator who has lost a son and wanted to tear the world asunder. Dean would be coming home if he had to rip out the very foundations of hell.

Halfway down the hall, a single light flickered from a small windowed room, possibly an old operating area. Pastor Jim was close behind and the first to register the small figure in the space. He knows its Dean and wonders if the boy is chained because he is so vicious or a prisoner. However, the debate stops him in his tracks. Through the dirty glass, they could spy a huddled mass hanging from chains. Neither knew how much timed passed, staring at the horrific sight. Every second seemed to feel like forever.

"John…" the holy man said quietly and made half an effort to find words to prepare John for what he know his friend has already witnessed.

Words are meaningless now as John runs without ever hearing the mutterings of the holy man. He flung the door open with his gaze fixated and terrified by the sight welcoming him to the sheer mind-boggling depths of demon depravity.

Chained to the wall, Dean hung disjointed like his muscles had given up. The young boy seemed aged like a broken down old man. He was stripped to his underwear and it was clear he had been assaulted with many types of physical pain and things no one wanted to fathom. Every inch of him was bruised or cut. It looked like he was awake, but not acutely aware of his surroundings anymore.

Remnants of food plastered to his face, which John quickly surmised came from the remains of a plate directly in front of his son. Dean's belly was slightly swollen and distended as if his body were shutting down on him. From the smell of stale, dried urine almost as if his skin were imbedded with it, the idea his son was dead soon sprang to John's mind.

As John struggled to unlock his son, Dean burned with the fever of neglect. His mind slipped away like a fist full of sand. He felt hands on him, intrusive and unwanted, letting frustration join confusion as fought the person pulling at him.

"UMMMMM….. noooo….." Dean murmured, swatting both arms around.

"Easy. I'm right here."

Relief flooded him- Dean was alive. John's voice shook as much as his hands, trying desperate to pick the lock on Dean's mangles, but all he could focus on were the rips in the boy's wrists. His words tried to form comforting promises and lies, but he found himself repeating the same words over and over, calling for his son. Finally, the tumblers released and Dean sank downward.

The sensation of free movement in his arms crashed the child to a semi-state of awareness. Awake, but not alert and present in the moment. Panic hit when he fell down at John's feet. The shock was sudden, violent, and frightening. His first realization struck him, thinking he was under imminent attack and for the first time when he tried to move, his body sloppily obeyed him.

He cobra coiled against the wall, rising up and punching as hard as he could manage. The blows wouldn't be enough to hurt a gnat, but that didn't stop him. He fought on, not evening knowing his attack bordered on sadly pitiful.

Not even struggling, John held his son down easily. The boy kicked and screamed as loud as his dry throat permitted. Without warning Dean lashed out, sinking his teeth straight into webbing between John's thumb and index finger, drilling deep and drawing blood. The hunter yelped and Dean rolled, scrambling for a crack in one of the walls.

* * *

**NOW...**

"You think your demands will rob me of my prize. You've lost. For all your precious plans, you've lost. Course you were never all that swift." Armaros smiled, condescendingly with a hint of victory licking at her lips.

"You have something that rightfully belongs to me." Wain continued.

"Say pretty please! My claim is clear. Even Lilith couldn't hold him in Hell because of it. Even you would have like the look on her face when I took her out from under him. Ruined all her mighty plans"

"Demonic dibs in this game don't count for shit. Not with me. But Hell was the only way for you to fully make a grab for him. Makes you wonder who is the pathetic. Weak- damn weak. As I recall a ten-year-old boy held your powers at bay through your best tortures."

"Merely a bad set of timing against my favor. An oversight I corrected."

"You know nothing. Ol' yellow,Lilith, You. For all your screwin' around in human affairs in the centuries you have not learned a damn thing about 'em. You all try to break Dean and Sam down- only to make them stronger. When you killed Mary, you asked for it. You placed the wrong bet."

"We chose of the strong and of the line."

"Stupid demonic beliefs. And when Sam died, Lilith and you saw an opportunity to mutiny for power. Except she didn't know about what you had done to Dean."

"It's not my fault she didn't think to ask about my claim. But, it worked so well for my plans. Sam lives to lead our army and give us a new home for all of us on Earth. I have Dean to tip him to my side. I get not one, but two very strong, capable soldiers. Azazel missed the train on that one. He came too late to use Dean as his seed, but I knew he had real talent from that very night."

"Oh... the demon came and found the Winchester blood line stronger than they thought. The grandfather stopped you and you…"

"Divine intervention! They broke the rules."

"Excuses- They had the power to deny all of you. You may have wanted that line, but you opened up a can of troubles. Dean held you off before and he's fighting you now."

"He can't anymore. Hell seemed to change that. Course he did have the memories of our special times before to lead him back to me. A boy never forgets his first real kiss." She sneered. "And the things I did to him in the pit would be enough to make ten children cry. The things I let him see. The truth about his mother and..."

* * *

**THEN…**

"Move!" John demanded.

Both he and Pastor Jim made a wide swing for Dean to secure the boy. Before they can stop the child, he scrambled haphazardly squeezing himself into a hole between the open drywall board that looked as if was a breath away from collapsing. The wall dipped dangerously low into the floor, about a foot down and bits of insulation spilled out all over the place, obviously not structurally sound.

Dean curled tight, wiggling back to a wall stud until his way was blocked. He breathed hard and exasperated. A fist pushed through above his head, raking the wall free. He screeched and started kicking hitting out without a true plan. Behind him another set of fists pushed out a small section and Pastor Jim popped his head through the wallboard opening.

"Were close!"

He tried to run and to look for a means of escape, but his energy is mostly spent. This time John has more speed than the beaten boy. Just above his waist, hands grabbed him and pulled at him, lifting him out from his sanctuary. The last of the drywall crumbled, giving him nowhere else to hide. John whirled Dean on his shoulder, letting his son struggled and punched him. In some ways, the man felt he deserved it. He had failed his son when he promised Mary he would always protect him. At every turn it seemed like he was cursed. He was proud of Dean's drive and resourcefulness, but there wasn't time to break through all the child had been through. John's arms clung to Dean's waist, securing him with both arms.

"You'll have to cover us."

"Like always."

The hunters sprinted down the hall while John uttered half whispers to his son, hoping to get the boy to conserve some energy or come back to them. Pastor Jim took point, leading them with his weapon fully drawn.

"Hope that thing works."

"Necessity is the mother of invention." Jim smiled, keeping his finger close to the trigger of his paintball gun.

John stopped. Something didn't smell right. He crouched back in the shadows with his pained eyes scanning the horizon. Dean shifted in his arms, moaning with contempt.

"Easy… quiet son… quiet."

"Dean! Mama's home!" They heard the unnerving call as sickening as a shriek of death.

"Damn!" John whispered, kicking the nearest window out, jumping out with Dean in tow.

When she came into view the demon hissed. Calling all her powers to her, she began to fling debris at them to stop their escape.

"MY PRIZE!" Armaros hissed for a moment before Jim blasted her with multiple rounds of holy water, jumping before all the pellets could strike.

"WHERE IS SHE?" John asked, trying to maintain a grip on Dean.

Just then the side of the building collapsed, almost on top of them, but they kept moving jumping straight towards the Impala. There was no hope of outrunning her demon powers.

* * *

**Now…**

"You found the only way to get him. And yet it still took you four months in hell to crack the surface. That was yellow's mistake and yours. You underestimate those boys time and time again."

"He didn't want to believe me at first- how all his life had been so pointless. Yet in time, so slow down there. Take your hardest day on this planet where time just slowed as you skewered in pain. That's Hell's time, but I can save you the lecture. You know all too well. You crawled out of the pit. You know you would do anything just for one second of relief. And a promise to spare him all that torment was all it took. Minute after minute, second after second...glorious agony. And now he's mine."

"Then I'll keep him in that coma forever just to keep you from winning."

"You can only do that for so long and I doubt you would let that precious prize linger like that- dying every day-fully aware of life, but not able to live it. Your bluff would be better if I didn't know you so well. Remember I have seen you at your worst."

"I want the locket and your claim and I want them now."

"That's just a trinket now- a reminder of the special bond between Dean and I. Right where I left it all these years. It was merely the conduit to get to his hidden, protected spot. Or is it that you want that special bond for you and he? A little action for you. Sick puppy. You like some bonds and spots on him, do you?"

"Good with taunts and words, but I'm over that crap now."

"I found his greatest weakness."

"The love for his mother."

"She was always his Achilles' heal, but of course, he had that sickness of devotion for the whole damn mixed clan. The connection between us is solid and even you can't stop me."

"Oh, I have my ways." Wain smiled.

"Never. Not you. You are too weak to do what must be done."

"Thanks to bastard master..."

"Azazel's dead!"

"Doesn't matter. I could give two shits about fair. Not anymore. I've learned these games from the demonic masters and I've played the best game on your evil ass. Dean's soul will be mine."

She twirled the locket in her fingers like a trophy of her victory as Wain watched her.

"Talk time is over." She announced

"I don't think so."

"You can't win."

"Something's not right. You're talking way too much. You know I am keeping his safe, but if you are so much more powerful now, why haven't you fought me already. If I am the only one standing in your damn way, why do you need sacrifices? If that connection is so concrete…"

"I choose to let you suffer.

"hmmm… I'll bet. You have competition…. And not only me… Who?"

"No one can…"

"The priest."

"Please! I can see through him…. You think a damn reaper…"

"I've tried to influence him already…. If not him….Something more powerful is trying to override your claim."

"Never."

"hmmpf… a bit of worry on that tongue. Who is it? Why do you feel the need to use the blood to call the other Fallen. You did it before when you couldn't break him and they kept your trail obscured for weeks. Why did they help you in his childhood and now hide like big chicken shits?"

"I don't need them."

"You're afraid. …afraid. Of"

"No one."

"Sam… It's Sam. He's calling to Dean and he doesn't even know it."


	23. See

**Then… November 1989….**

John rolled, wrapping his arms to tuck Dean safely to him, to avoid the falling debris. The metal and bricks belted out into the night, protesting the final stroke of their demise. He uprighted himself and for the very first time in his life, John ran from the battle, praying to the angels Mary always spoke of to save his son.

"Ah… To think I get to kill you myself," Armaros mused, raising her hands as if to call the very sky to crush her enemies.

Just when John thought there was no way they could make it, several silhouettes emerged from the shadows. "Look like we are in from one hell-of-a battle!" He screamed as his eyes darted for a shelter for Dean.

"My friend you have no faith." Jim responded. "Keep running."

It was then John realized the shadowy figures were attacking the she-demon, holding her at bay until they could reach safety. She wailed with frustration causing Dean to jerk and mumble.

"I…." John began to speak.

"You're welcome," the holy man offered, not really sure a thank you was on John's mind, however guidance was more of what John needed than an 'I told you so'. "Caleb and Harvelle will get the boys to hold them off until we get Dean away."

As the men caught sight of the Impala, John felt as if he was already home. And for the first time in history, he shoved himself into the backseat with his son and passed the keys to a shocked Pastor Jim, who asked no questions but abided by John's lead in this instance. Soon they were racing away.

John began to guide Dean down, make him more comfortable and perhaps give him a sense of safety. His large hands supported over Dean's spine, feeling every bone along the way. D_ean released air sharply when he felt a hand on his back. His mind screamed louder and louder to move and to resist. Again, he tried to squirmed, but the fight was impossible._

"Stop. It's all okay. We got you now. Please, son, can you hear me."

Swatting the older man away, Dean punched, deflected his father's attempt. "No… no… no…."

"Easy…"John coaxed as the child swatted aimlessly at him once more. This time he was able to restrain him. All the while, Dean struggled and screamed as if he were being tormented. John's grip tightened, binding him close in protection. "Easy now."

"No...No….no….I…." Dean struggled to say, hyperventilating.

Thrashing wildly, he fought to get free, fist flying on without thought of a target. Letting Dean hit him over and over again, John welcoming the boy's lashing out. His son deserved that much. While John's hold gets stronger, the tiny fists land weaker and weaker. With every protest, a piece of John seemed to die. He isn't entirely sure if Dean is attacking him or what he demon had done to him."

"Go on... go on..."

"John, he'll hurt himself. We may need to sedate him. What in God's name has she done..."

"No, I got him," he disagreed before turning his attention back to his child. "It's me… stop now… easy. Look at me. "

"He doesn't know it us."

"Come on, son."

"Please, just make it stop…." the child whimpered.

Dean bucked, fighting for his freedom. Soon violent shivers overtook his weakened body and his voice muffled a moaning plea. The sound turned John to stone- rigid, ceasing his ability to speak for a minute. The seasoned hunter winched and gasped, waiting for Dean's next reaction, clearly expecting worse and worse.

John fumbled with the emergency kit just under the driver's seat, knowing the med kit was just inside with access to some pain killers. is fingers grasp the box, flinging in half open in the seat. Quickly his hands found what he needed and he popped two small tablets in Dean's mouth. Before the boy can react, he guided his holy water flask to force them down.

"Easy… easy….look at me."

"What did you give…" Jim began to question.

"Low dose pain killer. It should help. I don't want to give him anything stronger."

"We got to get him help…."

We can't let Sam see him like this. He would hate me forever if I let Sam see him."

"I know a place…about 2 hours out, but I can get us there in one as this car flies."

"Do it."

* * *

Sterile white walls seemed less blank than the expression washing over John's face. In truth he only glanced out of keeping worry at bay. His primary concern was for his son, who had been behind a closed door for at least an hour. All of it was merely a blur- a vague nightmare of what had happened to his son.

"You did your best." Pastor Jim barked in the animal hospital's phone. He almost cursed as he tried to think of something to say. "Are you sure? Dammit!" As soon as he said the word he realized it. "Lord forgive," me he mouthed. Finally when the person on the line stopped talking, he spoke more in his usual tone. "We'll you saved our hides. I can't fault you for…"

John shifted slightly annoyed his thoughts and worries were being interrupted by Jim's conversation. In one way Jim was right, John's patience was indeed dead. Perhaps it died the day Mary did.

"The kid is being checked right now. Took him to Martha- the usual! Yeah, he is a strong kid- Sure he would like that… boys are still boys… let me know what you find out." He asked politely as he hung up. Turning his attention to John, the urge to curse returned. "Caleb….he…" Jim sighed. "The demon turned tail and ran when she lost the upper hand. They couldn't take her… she was too powerful…. Harvelle is taking a group up to the highway to get her trail. Caleb's checking out the symbols and bodies to see what plans she had for Dean."

All thoughts of a discussion about failure faded quickly when they heard the sounds of violent retching. John shot up ready for action.

"DEAN!" The sight of Dean being so destroy had been tougher than either man realized.

"It's okay!" Stay out there!" A gentle voice demanded.

Jim could sense his friend's agitation and urgency. "She's just checking him out. You know how Martha is with hunters."

"Dean's in great hands. Dr. Keller is the best around and the kid's quite the fighter.

"I know." John finally said.

Whirls of what it would feel like without Dean began, but when Martha burst from the room and closed the door, those stopped.

"She'll take good care of him." Jim noted as she swung the door open.

"Don't I always take care of you lot! Don't know what I would do without one of ya showing up every week." Martha managed a smile of reassurance.

"Thought you needed the practice on humans." Jim spouted.

"Animals are easier…" She offered. "And they don't think less of you when ya tell them a demon killed your husband. There's no such thing as a board of mental review made up of hamsters somewhere that tells you you're not fit to be a doctor anymore. Never saw a cat laugh have ya?" She sensed the growing temper inside of John and changed to a more serious and honest tone. "And I'm here when I am most needed for boys like him. It helps to get back at 'em and ruin those damned things' plans."

John resisted the urge to ramble a million questions, while he gravitated towards the woman. She was obviously tired, but her plump face shone sweetly, like the vision John always had of his own mother.

"He's a mess. I could lie to you and sugar coat it, but physically he'll need our help to recover….But some damage may already be for life. And starving him of protein…."

"No… he'll be fine."

"He's holding in there. I gave him a stronger pain killer, which sedated him a bit- calmed him enough for me to examine him. Mainly the cuts and bruises were inflicted for instant pain. The greater concern was the dehydration and starvation. He's had just enough food and water to barely keep him alive- my thoughts… she was trying to wear him down..."

"Control him?" Jim asked.

"I don't know, but his body broke down its own fat, but I think we got to him before it started in on his tissues. I don't know how large of a boy he was before, but several of his ribs and stomach are protruding, and the weight loss looks quite severe."

"What do I have to do?" John blurted, ready to bargain.

"Nothing… just be here for him. We'll have a rough night ahead. You should sleep yourself before I have a 2nd patient. "

"You might give up on that argument before you even start it." Jim noted. "He's not likely to listen to begin with."

"Imagine… a stubborn hunter- never met ONE OF THOSE- must be contagious. Good thing for the kid."

"Dean- his name's Dean." John said blankly as if he had to remind himself.

"Dean's body needs to heal first. His internal organs were likely stressed. He lost the last food the demon fed to him and a couple of half dissolved pain killers. His stomach couldn't process it. His body temp is lower too. After I got him on an IV drip, he settled a bit more... realized I wasn't her. He'll be a bit more logical as he gets more stable. The swelling should go down once we get some nutrients in him. That occurred from the drop of protein count in his blood."

"And you think that is okay?"

"No... Not by a long shot, but you saved him before it was too late. You just need to give him enough time…"

"And patience…" Jim added.

"...To heal. I've got him on everything I can think of to get him hydrated, calm, and comfortable. A hospital would have more means to make him comfortable."

"I can't risk him… even if it means they would take him from me… we have to get him to an ER…"

"John… if a child advocate took Dean now, I'm sure you would likely die and so would he…Even with the boy's shambled mind, he'll not take the loss of you and Sam for long."

"I said easier, but not better. I have a few friends out there who keep me supplied and unlike them, I like my job. Saving people that I can is my best revenge on those bastards."

"I can think of better ones." John narrowed his vision, thinking of all the things he would love to do to creatures that had destroyed his life. Even the war couldn't break him, but the curse of evil did. From now on John would have to keep the boys at a safer distance. He hated the thought of leaving them on their own, but when it involved the upper level of demons, it was for their own good.

"Don't lose it on me." She asked more than demanded. "He's not in any pain now and drifting in and out of sleep, so that's a beginning. He may have some issues later… a weaker immune system…stunted growth…but we can modify the treatment as it goes. I got him cleaned up, warm and in some fresh clothes, so things will look a lot better to him. As soon as he is more alert in a few hours, we'll start him off on thickened liquids...high with protein…… to get his stomach to settle and prep for real food in a few days. Start him off easy until he can bounce back….

"So he can make it."

"He will make it!" She said. "I've never lost a patient and especially not a sweetie like that one."

* * *

**NOW…**

Bobby covered his face, trying to avoid the gag his body wanted desperately to complete. "This is as much fun as pissing on spark plugs."

"This just gets better and better."

"What in the world could she be calling?" Missouri aksed.

"Don't think we ever want to find out." Bobby suggested.

Suddenly, Sam found he couldn't move another inch, leaving his companions to stare at him blank. A searing pain rippled inside Sam's forehead that demanded his full attention. "No….not anymore…," he demanded. Here they were again, the damned visions- the demonic curse. He had enough of them by now to know the world was about to trundle into some prediction.

"No!" He commanded.

As perfect as if he were here, his father flashed in his mind- younger in a way Sam had never seen him in life. Tears filled his father's eyes and Pastor Jim tired to comfort him. A tone screeched inside of his his mind and the shift flashed like a light overloading. More bodies… just like the ones he found, but not the same ones. His father and Jim stood over them, searching…. Searching…

"He's not here."

"How do you know?" John's voice shook.

"All the bodies are too big… he's not here. And take a gander at the chest cavity. It's hard to read but why do they all look like they have Dean's named carved in them."

Then John was running, pulling at a child- Dean… Dean as a child. He was beaten and dying.

"Stop!" Sam demanded his will to obey. A vision was not on his agenda. But, the images in his head ignored him and the world morphed. Images surrounded him- so bright, so crisp all with sharp edges tearing into his vulnerably aware mind. Everything was so familiar but so unknown. The pain sliced through his forehead and he reached up to pinch it off and to somehow make it go away.

"Not now. Not when I need to fight." Sam ordered.

"Boy, come on now." Bobby wanted nothing more than Sam's pain to stop

"What are you seeing?" Missouri questioned with no response. She could feel the tension and terror of Sam's vision.

"Dad… don't cry… please…" Sam screamed.

* * *


	24. Wail

**Then….**

"I'm going to lower the dose. It'll be better if he can rest on his own and give me an accurate measure…." Martha started, wondering if she would have to wake Jim to get an ally on her side. Mainly, she was worried John would fight her on treatment. After all it was the standard hunter- tough guy response.

"Go ahead." John offered before the doc could finish her thought. He repositioned Dean's head to rest more on his crumpled up, brown leather jacket, hoping somehow the scent would provide an innate sense of safety.

"I just want to check to see if his mental…."

"It's funny what you think about when you kid….when… this jacket…. I use to come home from the garage, thinking I was a failure for not being a better provider for him and for Mary. Worried me to death that every paycheck was gone before I even saw a dime. You know what it was like to come home empty handed when all the kids had so much and he had so little. But, he never…. He was just a happy kid. Waited for me every night- jumped in my lap and curled to sleep in this old jacket. Stupid… I always wear it when I'm not around him."

"No…. This life- it won't let you out. Sometimes it's better that I don't have anyone." Martha said. "I couldn't do it with kids…not like you. One foot in the past and one in hell." She took a reading. "There's no right answers."

"There have to be. How is…"

"Swelling is down and he's going to need lots of rest….. Speaking of….You should get some sleep too… Dean and Jim have given up the ghost… so to speak. I can take it from here."

"Not in the mood for sleep."

"Never knew sleep was an actual mood… must have missed that in medical school."

"No. John just makes up his own rules as he goes along." Jim yawned, obviously not sleeping as heavily as Martha thought.

"So I see. Well, the good news is that Dean's vitals are better than they were an hour ago. He is one tough cookie! Just be careful, if he gets a taste of my cookin' you fellas may never leave!"

She reached out, touching John's arm in an attempt to reassure the watchful father, but John wasn't that easily persuaded. Instead, he fussed over Dean's comfort. John's shaking hand found his son's face.

Giving up on trying to figure the older Winchester out, she opted to change his focus. "Oh, you may want this. He had it on him when you brought him in. He was holding onto this so tightly, he shoved part of in his palm. I had to pry it out. Fought me really good for it."

She passed the piece of broken gold to John, who stared blankly at it like the item was about to do something mystical.

"We should burn it….John? Demon dealings…That's..." Jim was about offer a door for John to be rational, but it was too late. His friend was already saying more than he had for years.

"It's….It's Mary's. I…. I thought it burned the day she died. Hmmmpff… She wore this from the day Dean came to us… When he was born…she….she put on her mother's locket. I hadn't seen it for years… not since her mom died. Said…she said her mother would be so proud to have him as a grandchild. She wore the damn thing every day that kid…"

Water welled in his eyes as he looked at his sleeping son. His hand pushed back the now soft and clean hair. With some of the dirt and blood washed away, it almost seemed like Dean was whole and none of it all happened. Dean shifted further upon the doctor's table, extending his aching body and legs out. A small groan was the only thing Dean uttered.

I'm sorry." Martha said. "The pain never really goes away after losing them."

"I couldn't go back into the house much. Pretty much forbid the boys to ever go… not that he seemed to want to- kid was different… so lost and I had no idea what to do or say to him. He must have found it when Mary's friends went through her things. They tried to help out, but I was too far gone. He's… he hid it from me all this time."

"He just wanted to be close to his mother." Jim reasoned. "He missed her."

"I know… he….hmmm… He broke it once. You can still see the silver solder I used to fix it. First time I saw him… He never really cried until that day. First time Mary ever raised her voice- think it scared him more than anything. Those tears nearly killed her. She looked at him and told he that he was all she ever wanted in life- Her blessing…. Got me to mend it and she made Dean smile so big… I thought my world would never be so perfect but Mary and Dean-- they…they… When Sam……..and….and...And it was stolen from under me…"

"It's normal to feel that way." Jim added.

John didn't respond, but concentrated his energy to keep himself in check. He followed the shape of Dean's cheek bone with his hand.

In an instant, Dean's eyes opened. He summoned his meager strength to protect himself. Foreign hands grasped his own, stopping him. For that long first minute, he could see only retinal whiteness. Eventually, he stirred. His eyes opened and scanned the room. The light faded and details flowed into clarity of vision, if not of mind.

"I'm sorry if I scared you."

Dean's eyes roamed, searching for salvation. A face zoomed into view, familiar. A face framed by an overgrown five o'clock shadow beamed down at him. A gut-wrenching gasp caught in his throat with a longing for this all to be real. "Daddd?" The sound was drawn out and meek like the sound of small animal caught in a trap. Tears streamed from his eyes, shocked to see his father's face.

"It's me. I'm really here." John responded in a strained voice as dense and rough as the grumble of a dull chainsaw cutting through the thickest redwood. "Can you tell me what happened, son?"

The strangled look of desperation and begging on Dean's face killed any ideas of talking about his time with the demon.

"Hey! It's all okay. Take it easy. You're safe now."

"That's right. You have to believe me. You know I don't lie." Jim added. "We got you."

But Dean knew something was wrong. They weren't safe. "She'll come for me!" Dean screamed, grabbing at John. "Kill you...she…"

"Easy tiger... easy."

"She's coming back…" His voice trailed off to softness.

"She's not… believe me…."

"She'll come," Dean whispered, but John didn't hear the words, only the sound of Dean's moan.

"It's alright, son," John reassured again "She's dead…."

Jim shot John a glance that lying would only compound Dean's fear and would have protested harder had John not glared a back off warning.

Dean's small fists clenched as Dean struggled to believe his father.

"Hey, I got something of yours. Think you want it back?" John had to get Dean to trust him. As soon as Dean saw the glint, his mind raced with more fear, but John smiled at him. Silently, his father folded Dean's hand over the locket piece. "Why don't you go on back to sleep? We can go see Sam in a few days. You'll like that…"

"No… she'll…" Dean timidly replied, his body tense.

The plea was enough to break John. His arms flew around Dean, hugging him in an iron grip. Welling with their own water, John's eyes reflected Dean's anguish with every uttered plea, but he held on for his son's sake "Hey, were grown up now right? We have to be brave and not cry. It's okay. You're safe. Okay?" His voice was coaxing and melodious. "Easy. I'll be here…" John whispered as he brought Dean even closer to him, almost covering every inch of him now in an embrace as Martha fussed over the placement of IV's. John nodded asking her to give Dean more to let him sleep. Thankfully, she complied.

Dean muttered incoherently. A dribble of water darted from pained eyes while he blinked as if time moved in slow motion. His voice shuddered in gasps, confessing random, muddled thoughts to his father. "You came for me?"

"Always… always believe that!" John spoke in awe and shock. "I could never leave you … never... you hear me." The last words shook.

"She'll be back."

"Not anymore. I got her good… don't you worry. You're old man is tough and … its over- for good"

John's promise seemed to stir Dean's need for protection even more. He melted, hiding as deep as he could in his father's arms. The assistance of the sweet medication in his IV only compounded his feeling of safety. Finally, Dean lulled into almost a trance. A few minutes in, his rasps became heavy labored breaths. Glancing at his father one last time he slipped into deep slumber, while two more tears leaked from his eyes, rolling onto the side of his face, stopping mid fall on the freckles of his cheeks.

"Shhh... No... You're okay. You're okay." John said as he held Dean tightly. Seeing his son this way was crushing. He failed when Dean needed him most. His own body shook and for a brief moment, Martha and Jim thought he was rocking Dean, but there was no intention in his movement.

John cupped the back of Dean's head, holding him with all his might. After a brief sigh, John's voice seemed to almost wail. His face flooded with pain, regret, anguish, and all the things he had bottled up.

"John?"

"He's going to make it." Martha said.

Any efforts of comfort were pushed away. He turned his head, telling them to back off.

John's fingers, flexing frantically, struggled to grip his son, one hand latching around Dean's shirt collar. "Shhh... My sweet boy…" He muttered, eyes filling with tears and anguish. "I'm sorry…. So sorry."

And with that John, broke down, holding his son. He didn't care if the whole world saw him in this moment and didn't care if they thought he was weak. "My sweet baby boy… you…you..." He shuddered out incoherently, shaking his entire body. His body gorged with what had happened to his son. All the anxiety, fear, pain, and sorrow welled, coming out in a weep. His breath hitched and seethed.

"Dean… You're safe… I'm so sorry. Sorry, baby...shh...shh... Daddy's got you, now. It's all okay, it's all okay. What have I done!"

Jim began to offered reason again, seeing all the years of things on his friend's face. Years of unshed tears unleashed as Dean slept. "You tried to..."

"What does try mean to him now….they… look what they did to my boy….he's so….God, Dean… I…. Once we have him safe, I'm going to hunt her down. I don't want her to get a chance at him again… Never again!"

"He needs time," Martha demanded.

"And he'll get it, but that bitch won't get a chance to hurt anyone- especially him- again. No one will…."

* * *

**NOW….**

Driving agony pushed him to his knees. The pounding in his skull overwhelmed him, causing his voice to grumble. He heard the whispers of too many voices fighting for a spotlight in his mind. Dean was moving away from him- many spirits leading him away. Voices- none of them were clear and distinguishable, yet, they all seem to be saying Dean. He gasped. Now crawling on his hands and knees, he pressed his skull against the floor as if he had enough, begging for the vision to leave him.

Blood, buckets of blood- the likes that would make Stephen King's Carrie blush with being outdone splashed in his view. Dean called out to him, only to make a gurgling sound instead of Sam's name. Dean was dying, clawing for life. Then there was Wain…and a woman he didn't know. Her eyes flashed a sickly orange-

"A demon! A damn demon!" Sam screamed

The blood returned with the sound of Dean screaming with a fluidity that sounded like he was forcing the sound through water- gargling on blood.

His minds led him through corridors, again to Wain and the demon woman.

"hmmpf… a bit of worry on that tongue. Who is it? Why do you feel the need to use the blood to call the other Fallen? You did it before when you couldn't break him and they kept your trail obscured for weeks. Why did they help you in his childhood and now hide like big chicken shits?" Wain challenged.

"I don't need them." She said.

"You're afraid. …afraid. Of"

"No one."

"Sam!" Wain hollered in revelation.

Just as quickly, Sam's eyes adjusted. He was on the floor, staring into space. The images had awakened his subconscious, playing a blur of images, leaving his mind to sort them out. A hand touched his shoulder and pulled him back to the present time.

"It's alright. It's over." Missouri crouched down to Sam so they were face to face.

"Damn," Sam said.

Bobby and Missouri exchanged a look, but said nothing. They were both concerned for Sam and what the return of his vision meant in this in this investigation.

"Sam."

Forcing his head up, Sam met their gaze. "I'm okay. You don't have to call for me."

"We didn't say anything." Missouri noted.

"Just waited for you to work it out."

"I just heard my name."

"Probably just a leftover from the vision. You doin' okay, son?" Bobby assisted Sam to his feet.

"A damn bitch has been calling him- He was dying… blood and... The bodies… something is wrong."

"Bitch? I thought Wain?"

"Something else is going on here. This is all messed up. There is a demon challenging for Dean and she is calling the Fallen. I saw it and that's not all."

"So Wain's a patsy."

"No, he's… involved." Sam demanded. "Like two are them are using Dean. And both of them are here. Close- I saw them. She wants him. She's tried before. Wain's not Armaros. Not even close."

"This just got a lot worse. 2 demons battling it out ain't improving our odds."

"No… I saw people surrounding Dean. It doesn't make sense… He was bleeding to death." Jolting back, Sam looked almost as if he stepped on a live wire. "Bobby, what did she do to Dean? You have to tell me. I saw Dad and he- He lost it… he was freaked out and crying…"

"Oh honey, John wasn't a robot. He had so much pain."

"No, he was scared and Dean was really hurt. Tell me all of it!"

"Don't rightly know. All I know is the day I met you that boy was still in shock from it and John too. You remember the cabin."

"Not really… just being sick and you playing around with me."

"Dean clung to you like glue- harder- think he was afraid to be alone."

"I always thought he just listened to Dad, but…"

"He needed you… your love to get him through it." Missouri glanced at Sam. "Just like he needed Bobby's strength the day you met. He reopened his heart."

"What did she do to him? I saw how he…. When he was small... why didn't Dean."

"Would you want to forget the images you just…"

"Imagine living through them." Missouri commented.

"Your Dad told you boys he was going after something else, but he was tracking that demon. A group of hunters went after her- Caleb, Jim, Harvelle, Joe, and Elkins. They sent her packin' back to hell. He never told you because he hid you boys up there. And he lied to Dean to give him peace."

"All of this is getting way out of hand. Like danger is lurking everywhere."

* * *

"Wake up, Dean."

A hiss sound reached Dean's ear that made him cringe.

"It's only the ventilator. Open your eyes now, it's time."

Dean's head twitched and he fluttered his eyes.

"Wake up, Dean." Father Flanery asked politely. He smiled and glanced at Dean, nudging him awake as gently as he could.

"Hmmmm..." Dean groaned, finding he couldn't answer. Dean cracked open one eye slightly, and winced as the harsh white glare of the hospital assaulted him. He tried to move despite the rhythmic pounding in his head. He felt like absolute crap and he was feeling nauseous to make matters worse. Just as quickly, Dean he was fully alert and trying to speak, but the breathing tube crammed in is his throat strangled his voice.

"Don't try to speak. I know what you're thinking... I can hear you without a voice."

"DAMMITT! GET AWAY FROM ME! SAM! MISSOURI! BOBBY!"

"You don't need them. I would never hurt you."

"Yeah, right."

"I could never... " The image before Dean changed.

"No, Get away. You can't be… it can't be you!"


	25. Truth of Nature

Now…

"It's Sam…. You're afraid of Sam…" Wain smirked. "The creators fear their ultimate creation."

"Like you feared him all the years…. What he may become…. Knowing if he turns, it would have been the end of all of you! .But you come now… when his power is weak."

"Because Dean got in the way- ruined things for you."

"Sam denies what he can be...denies what has been given to him."

Suddenly she hissed, quickly turning to him. "What have you done!" She asked scornfully.

"Hedged the odds against you."

"You will die for this."

"Maybe... but I'll still get what I want long after you kill all that is left of me."

There was a sudden bang and a tranquilizer dart almost hit its mark as the she-demon whirled away. "None of you will get him!" Sam yelled as he nodded, quickly relaying the best course of action to Bobby and Missouri. Turning to Missouri he saw that she was already opening her mind to scan the surrounding area.

"She knew we were coming."

""I don't care. Setting us up to do you're dirty work! I saw what one of you did to DEAN! What you did all those years ago! WHO! WHO!"

"Ah… it's very touching isn't it." Armaros spouted.

"What you did to Dean... what they are doing...I'll kill them all."

Bobby exchanged a nod with Sam and both veered in opposite directions with multiple weapons drawn, trying to cover both villains before them. Missouri had a long rifle, but Sam had told her keep her distance. She wasn't trained for hand to hand combat.

The trio was welcomed by a strong cat like hiss as they barged in on Wain and Armaros' conversation. Wain seemed to smile as if grateful for their presence.

"He wants us here." Missouri bellowed.

"Don't matter none..."

"Be careful, this feels like a trap."

"Sam... Little... well not so little Sam Winchester- not anymore. Who knew we would pick such fine specimens of manhood." She smiled as he goaded him. "You think those little pee shooters are going to help you..."

Armaros glared defiantly at the group and then at Wain. The light shone gracefully on her dark ebony hair. Her bright amber-colored eyes narrowed in delight as she dangled the necklace in Wain's face, who merely chuckled. The light of vengeance flared up in her eyes.

"You led them here; they can thank you as they die." With that the table split in two as the demon made a lightening pace run straight at Sam, flinging Bobby and Sam away with the simple movement of her hand. Seconds later Wain is clutching her, trying hard to bind her.

The demon grinned malevolently at them all for a moment, seemingly as if she enjoyed the idea of multiple attackers. "Little pest… do you think you have the power to hurt me."

Despite her words, she found she could not shake Wain. Bobby took the chance and flung forward, tossing a good swing of holy water to divert the demons attention, giving Sam a chance to get closer. Meanwhile, Missouri began painting devil's traps at all the exits to ensure that the demons could not leave this battle without becoming trapped, at least not before they were sent to Hell or dying.

Armaros wailed when the water made contact, but it only seemed to increase her power and she lashed out at Bobby. Wain deflected her blow, taking the brunt of it.

"You need these humans to help you win. Pathetic." The demon sent an open palmed blow into Wain's chest, tossing him again like an insignificant feather.

Bobby jumped on the fallen man, taking advantage of having one of the demons at a disadvantage. He doused Wain with half a canteen of holy water to no effect.

"Holy..."

"We don't have time for this." Wain screamed. "If you want Dean out of her..."

Bobby tossed a punch and Wain slid a few feet. So, this man wasn't a demon as Bobby figured. He just hoped he could find something to hurt whatever the hell he was. And he didn't want to hear any bargains either. So, Bobby reared back, smacking Wain in the face with as much force as he could muster, aiming his salt gun, but Wain reached out with his mind, smashing Bobby to the floor.

Sam ran towards his fallen friend, but before he could take three steps, he was cut off by Armaros. "At...at...not nice! I hate to spoil such a fine solider, but you are really forcing my hand."

"Sorry to disappoint you, but you're forcing me to kill you." Sam noted. When he whirled around, Sam noticed that Bobby was upright, doing hand to hand combat with Wain.

"Come now, we both can have what we want. Dean could be a gift- I'd give him to you. Then he would always be safe under your protection- your control. Think of it, he would never risk his life again- die again. All under your power to accomplish, if you let me guide you. All I ask is a proper place in the regimen."

"Fine by me. You want to be number one! I'd say you get to go first when I wipe out your species."

"Then you will just have to die now and we can start all over with a new batch. Think! Dean would like to help us?"

"You aren't keeping him!" Sam screamed.

"There is little for you to do now."

She closed her eyes, leaving herself open, letting Sam take a step closer to her. "No... No... Now... you come closer and I'll kill Dean in a blink." She mumbled some words. "All I want will get you all you ever wanted."

Before she could twist Sam's emotions any longer, she felt a sudden sting in the middle of her back.

"Leave that baby alone." Missouri demanded.

Just then a dart zipped in the air, landing in Armaros' leg. The sudden impact of a dart loaded with holy water injected in her system. She screamed, diverting her attention to the shooter, finding Missouri had fired another round. As the next dart impacted, Armaros shuddered in pain, yet reached out with demonic powers, grabbed the psychic with her mind, and slammed her against three walls and the ceiling. She spun Missouri around with inhuman will, causing the younger hunter to gasp out in shock. Finally, she dropped Missouri in a thud again the floorboards.

Sam's eyes darted to his friends- Missouri on the floor- still and quiet and Bobby waging battle with Wain. He sprinted to help Missouri, but the demon was already standing in his way.

"And then there was just me and you. And the dead ones. Don't worry; I'll kill all your friends- quickly if you like. I won't let them suffer… not like Dean. You have no idea what he is about to feel… what he found in the depths of hell!" Grinning as she looked into Sam's eyes, the demon laughed, thinking she was unstoppable.

* * *

"Hi there kiddo." The priest mused, giving a soft smile.

"Stay the hell away from me!" Dean tried to move his limbs, but his eyes only darted in panic as he screamed in his mind.

"Easy. You can't move. The demon has too great a hold. Only those fighting to hold you here are keeping her at bay. Calm yourself. Wish I could have come on better terms." The image of Pastor Jim stared down fondly at Dean. "I am here to clean your soul, but it's proved to be a daunting task."

"I've had quite enough of this bullsh…"

"You always were impatient. But you are right, I am here for you and I'm afraid you seeing another reaper has jaded you on the afterlife... I could get the whole sickle and skeleton action for you, if it would make you feel better."

"SAM!"

"Calm down."

"YOU WANT ME YOU BASTARD! DON'T USE THE MEMORY OF PEOPLE I…"

"You love?" That is precisely why I am the one here. And the hour of your journey had not yet arrived."

"Stay away. Liar! I'll kill you for using…"

"It's really me, Dean. Things are complicated on the other side… more than you can ever know. Even I don't have the answers. God sent me to comfort you and show you the light."

"Keep the train to yourself."

"It doesn't really matter if you don't believe me. Too many lies have been told to you not to make you cynical. Things are so different on this side. Our time is only just beginning, but you know that already. Only you have seen the pain of Hell. You were brought back... Is it so hard to believe that good exists?"

"I'm supposed to believe you're good ol' Jim and you just happened to wander..."

"I was sent."

"Good one... next..."

"I'm here for you. I was sent to reap a Winchester."

"Nice try reaper...but I've been..."

"Hmmm...not much you can do at the moment. Every ally you have is indisposed at the moment. I have been here all this time- comforting those that love you in this trial, waiting for the moment when you need me most. Reapers are not evil Dean. They are as natural in this world as you are..."

Dean would have scoffed if he could."Right!"

"Well bad example... you are a contradiction- Just like always. Most men don't get a second chance from Hell's grip. You know I still remember that young boy who went up to my church's bell tower because Sister Teresa was afraid of the bats. When she celebrated that they were dead, she showered you like a little hero. She never knew you snuck up to the cave and let them all loose in that darkness- Saved them- let them live."

"I didn't…"

"You did and I loved the good boy in you all the more for it. So did John. Or maybe I could tell you about the little boy who bet quarters at the video arcade just to make sure Sam got a hot lunch as school every day, while you didn't even get one yourself. Or perhaps the boy who saw Mrs. Woods struggling to clean out her garage and each day you would stop after school to help her. Who made you do that Dean- was that some order from John?"

"Stop it!"

The teenager, who protected Martha Flanagan from the school bully when she got braces, walked her home until she felt safe again… The teen that broke his own heart by leaving the first girl he kissed because he thought he didn't deserve her because your world was so crazy. She still thinks of you, did you know?"

"Shut... shut up… You can't know that!"

"I know that like second nature, but it's so blind to you. You keep looking at life as half full, waiting for it to be filled to the brim with love and acceptance. Why is it so hard to believe someone would want you to have peace? When I passed I was given a new purpose. Life doesn't end with this one you are living."

"Yeah, there's more hell. Guess I earned my place there."

"Are you so lost to the good you have done? Do you truly believe that you are so undeserving? The demons cast a long shadow over you and part of you never really did make it back. You faked it well, but it was still never the same."

"Like that matters."

"It does. It's long past time for you to be whole and if you won't believe me, then perhaps others can persuade you- Lead you home."

Suddenly, spirits began to appear, popping from nowhere and surrounding Dean. Soon the small hospital room appeared as if it was standing room only performance, high in demand. A sea of faces unknown to him reached out for him.


	26. Scarlet & Black

**Author's Note: Only 2 or 3 more chapters left and it's all over. More coming soon!

* * *

**

NOW...

Bobby pivoted to the right, and then whipped around fairly spry to face Wain again. He charged, knocking his opponent into the next room, passing through a complete devil's trap. Whatever this man was- he wasn't a demon, but Bobby got the sense that he could be just as deadly as anything he ever face.

"What the hell are you!"

"A friend!"

Wain's reassurances were meaningless, as Bobby rushed forward, pulling out a knife of pure silver. Barreling with his blade so sharp it seemed to split air molecules as Bobby plunged it into Wain's torso, slashing for all that was in him, trying to make contact.

Nary a movement occurred in Wain's flesh as the knife made contact with his chest. Truth be told, Wain even enjoyed the look of satisfaction on Bobby's face. He supposed the hunter felt justified in protecting Dean and maybe that was rightly so. As Bobby, let go of his grip on the weapon, Wain didn't even groan. Instead, he let loose a strange laugh as if this entire battle was amusing.

Reacting instantly, Bobby attempted a new assault, hoping to find some weapon that could affect this damned creature before him. What he needed most was Ruby's blade, but Sam had that in the previous room, hopefully using it on the she-demon. For the present, the best plan seemed to be keeping Wain busy until Sam finished.

The strange thing was for every move Bobby now made, Wain countered too easily- like he could read inside the mind and pull out all the years of tactics. It was only when Bobby made a misstep and covered his own mistake that he surprised Wain. He would have felt better about the whole mess had they all been facing one demon, but two sure as hell didn't make Bobby feel secure in winning this battle. And now he couldn't even keep tabs on Sam. He just hoped the young man was prepared to face Armaros. The saving grace of thought was that Sam had enough heat boiling of the injustice done to his big brother, the boy may be able to hold off a battalion of demons right now.

Speaking as if he were meeting his opponent for coffee instead of battle. "Bobby, I don't have time for this. I'm here to help you. I brought you here."

"Ha... I ain't buyin'...you're playin' games. You think I trust something messing with my...Should have not messed with..."

"Your family?"

"Those boys are not up for grabs cause you think you can..."

"My friend you have no idea. I only want one thing."

"You won't be the first of your kind I've kicked to hell and back and I ain't your buddy! And you can't have Dean, not that kid!"

He launched at Wain, plunging the silver knife again, deeper, inside what should be Wain's heart. He stopped, shifted back, and stared, seeing that his stab caused no pain or damage. Not a bruise, cut, or scratch dented or marred the body. The knife buried deep, only the hilt poking free of what should have been a wound.

"I don't have time for this..." Wain screamed as he locked his arms around Bobby's ribs, lifting the hunter high in the air. The hunter's feet swung wildly, several feet off the floor. Bobby, didn't give in, instead, he tried to connect with some part of his captor. His efforts were rewarded with the full force and a maddening spin, followed by a defeating slam to the floor.

"I can't have you in the way!" Wain demanded

For a few minutes, the wind was knocked out of Bobby and he couldn't think of responding. His ribs screamed, foretelling broken bones. The already shaken hunter slammed again- against what he wasn't too sure. His breath was knocked out of him and it paralyzed him for a few moments. Then, just as quickly the creature descended upon him, baring the blade towards Bobby.

* * *

One by one, the parade of spirits flittered near Dean, touching him. The young man almost smiled, his laugh line dimples appearing as he felt a strange sensation of warmth. His mind and heart wrestled with the million different emotions.

"NO STOP!"

"Quiet yourself. These are not vengeful or misguided spirits. These are the lives you have touched- ones that have passed on, ones that have been freed because of your actions, loved ones of those you have saved. These are the spirits that wait to welcome you. Could one so undeserving instill such love?"

"SAM!!"

"Sam's out fighting for you. In fact, he is partly to blame for why you are still here. Armaros..."

"Don't say that.. Don't..."

"I can't make that go away- make her go away, no matter how hard you pretended. She would let you die, only to rise again. But there are those of us who would see that plan fail. I'm here to make sure nothing else comes to make a claim. I fear I have failed you in that regard. I already broke the rules and sent Sam out to save you. I couldn't help it. I had to try. I was sent here to comfort you in your time of need and instead I risk my damnation to save you."

"What would be the point, I'm heading right back to hell. Now I know you are lying. You're not here. I'm just dreaming."

"Then let it be a nice dream for you, if that is what it takes to ease your burden and guide you to comfort."

"There's not enough people out in the world that would give a crap once I left their lives...much less come to keep my soul out of the burner... nah... not buyin' it..."

"You are more stubborn than anyone else God put a breath in. But, I know you. You want to believe."

"Skip the X-file mantra..."

"SILENCE YOUNG MAN!"

Suddenly, the tone in Jim's voice shook the obedient child free inside of Dean. A voice filled of sound and fury, but tempered by an ever present patient undertone. It was then, and only then, Dean confirmed the reaper before him- the man he once new as Pastor Jim was truly with him. "How... what..." He scarcely could form a thought at the moment, reeling with the knowledge of truth.

"Hello, dear child. I know it's hard for you. Always blinded by catastrophe, gnawing loss. When part of your love dies, a part of you dies. The people who formed your identity are all gone and you are not uncomfortable in your own skin. You were a stranger to yourself. A walking shadow for so long. Just who is Dean Winchester? A frightened child, waiting in the dark for someone to love him... to bring him to a home he can never have. Stop blaming yourself for everything. Your heart bears the true scars of Hades- But in fire we can be reborn..."

"It's fine..." Dean thought somberly. He didn't want to admit how terrified he was of the things he was seeing. A good soldier wasn't terrified of just stupid things in his own head.

"No, but I hope it will be."

"Why! Why would you even try!"

"Isn't that what our little family has always done…. We all found each other for a reason, though at the time of my life I would have told you that were impossible. Don't you see Dean… you are the key… the one person who stopped demon plans just by being the best big brother to Sam. You moved the darkness away by giving him something to look up to and to strive to be. He couldn't be lost in anger because you always found a way…"

"Yeah! That worked when Sam left! Didn't it! Please… if you are here to take me… just don't tell me things I know can't…"

"Who did you run to when John walked away… trying to outrun the demon's plans for Sam! Just like you, anger and resentment couldn't make him care about you any less. And your life has moved so many others that your family is the largest one that even heaven has seen."

"You think bringing a parade of spirits here will make me less of a bastard..."

"You have never been a bastard. Misguided... a horn dog at more times than not, but not beyond saving..."

"It's pointless!"

"Not if Sam is successful, but if he fails I fear I have led you to another painful death. I'm sorry for my part in that, but... You have no idea how your family has embraced the troubles of so many other- sometimes in the smallest ways. I don't know if you will live or die, but I suppose in way, if I am here to bring you peace... you need to be free to find it. God will have to forgive any error in my logic."

"You gave Sam and Bobby the name?"

"No, that was sent from someone else. I just provided the right details at the right time to the right people. But, I know Bobby knew the story of what happened to you. He was the first person you trusted outside of John and I after that. For the longest time, we all wondered if the gentle nature in you had would survive, but Bobby Singer forced his way in... Or you let him in. Only the Lord knows why..."

"He saved Sam."

"I don't believe that is the entire reason. But in any case, that all doesn't matter. I knew Bobby had enough history and with a few hints, Sam filled in the rest."

"How can he fight her? How can he stop me from dying and...You've kept me here!?"

"Yes and no. I have played my part in this- only to comfort you. When I arrived the dark hung over you…. Son, you have several parties aiming for your soul. Sam doesn't know, but the power he has within inadvertently is spilling over to stop her, too. In a way, each of us has prevented you from moving on."

"Dying you mean."

"Moving on. Whether in this world or the next. I can't lie the tug of war has allowed you time to fight."

"Great you, Sam, and that demon bitch playing games with my soul."

"Armaros."

"She was just a monster in my dreams... in my past. She wanted me to die, and I had to protect myself. It was as simple as that."

"Never simple… never could be. She was very real and more vicious than we ever imagined. But, this more complex than that."

"And who else... Wain... that guy is not telling the whole truth."

"You are correct. He is here for his own agenda, but so are Sam, Missouri, and Bobby. You have more people on your side than those in the darkness. Imagine several influences sort of canceling each other out. It's the very reason you are in such limbo. And I have done my best to keep you from the pain when Armaros tried to use you."

"I'm going to kill that Wain bastard and Armaros bitch as soon as I..."

"There is so much to explain and for you to understand. Armaros brought you back to use. She had to hedge the power struggle to her favor. Seems like the demons finally understand it's a package deal. The power struggle between the demons continues and she fears that you will interfere. When you killed the yellow eyed demon, it opened a void…. The Fallen knew the only way to influence Sam was to control what he wants most."

"Me! You can't let them do this… not to him."

"Who better to get Sam to follow than you. She holds a piece of your soul and as long as it is in her hands, she can keep bringing you back or leave you rot in Hell. What better card to play- give you back only to take you away. What would Sam give to make you whole?"

"That's what you sent Sam after. You shouldn't… Help me, please…. I have to get up...wake up... To protect him."

"You can't, my friend. You can't."

"Please... don't... not for me... don't let him."

"I'm afraid Sam must draw the line now of who they want him to be and who we all want him to be. If the demons held onto you long enough- any deal would have seemed to be good enough to get you back. The longer Sam twists in the demonic wind, the more likely he is to turn for the determent of us all. "

* * *

"If you harm..." Sam began to demand.

"PLEASE! I've heard enough of that from John in my time to last eternity..." Her eyes seemed to flicker as she spoke. "Would you like to know I almost broke him… and little Dean too…"

"You're a scared bitch." Sam smirked at the woman before him. "Do you think those eyes scare me? You can save the cheap theatrics I saw… saw… my father… and Dean after you hurt him…."

"You did…ah… then you are not as lost as I hoped… you still beat with the darkness inside you and it's closer than you dream."

Rage rumbled over Sam's quiet breathing. Internally, he felt a pull- pure hatred, maybe even the place where evil dwelled in him sparked to live, but he had never felt so in command in his life. "Let Dean go and leave my friends alone!" His voice grated as if he were almost two people speaking, but obviously the dual sounds belong to him.

""I could kill them all with a whim... just as you can... if you open to your gift."

"My curse- given to me by you…..."

Gleefully, Armaros spoke, noticing that Sam was on his way to progressing beyond Azazel's dreams."No. You were chosen for a reason. Why do you think I want Dean? Both so very capable- strong- handsome...While this is not how I thought it would come down, I can play by the new rules. Can't you feel the darkness coming? You have finally embraced what has been given to you. I know what's inside your head Sam. You feel the power's fingers crushing the good in you. I'm helping you. Can't you see? When Dean died all of that just bubbled to life, even thought you want to deny it. Eventually, you true self will come and Dean would be just as dead."

"I would never hurt him!"

"But you would… all of that power unleashed- untrained… it would be too much to bear for even your best intentions…. I can harness that rage…blackness oozing inside of you. This way you get to keep him and forever make the choices you want. You no longer have to live under Azazel's thumb."

"You're wrong. The only darkness I feel is for you. I'm tired of games, plans, and death. All your kind have really done is hurt my family. Now it's time for you to feel that pain. Let my brother go." Sam's voice fumed and his posture was erect as he pushed whatever he had just experienced out of his mind.

"Is there really anything of worth left of Dean to save."

"You're not hurting him anymore."

"You have no idea what we've done to Dean. I could show you all the things that happened in hell. Can you look over at Dean and see him as some demon's bitch."

"Fuc…"

"Does that disturb you? You've already lost the last and only advantage you had. Dean's gone- mine forever. I snap my fingers and he's my puppet. Or I turn his body against him and he's back in Hell. There's nothing left for you to have. I can always destroy my prize from right here."

Suddenly, Sam's head jerked up, his mind making a connection miles away to what the she-demon was doing to his brother. "GOD...uh...What the hell was that?" He screamed as his knees wobbled from the images rushing in his mind.

"I'm not some pansy ass demon Samuel! I am fallen angel of God. Forged with all the wrath, fury and fortitude, except no longer bond by some Angelic code. I don't have to bow to anyone… not you or any of your damn family or cohorts! You all got very luck with Azazel. He was sloppy with too many ideas about some destiny. I have powers you have never seen."

"THEN WHY ARE YOU AFRAID OF ME!" Sam screamed his head providing him with the sharp details of his brother's pending death."

"At full form you would be a sight to behold…. But not now… weak… pathetic. I can connect to the blood beating inside of you...let you see how Dean is suffering...watch it drive you insane. I had to break Dean to make one of my children, but Azazel's blood binds you to us all. I can save you from it. All it takes is a little yes.

"No!" In his mind, flashes of Dean sparked- bleeding and crying out in pain. "My... my brother wouldn't give in to you..."

"But he did... he's no hero... weak like all humans... but he can be so much more if you let him... let him be safe with just a simple word."

"Go to hell..."

"I'm afraid it's your turn. See, sweet Sammy, you won't let go of Dean…. you've tried to make a claim... Your foolish father had no idea what you would do one day, but he opened the door for me... just like you are... You want to hold onto him, then share his pain... You're connected now and if you want to survive, you have to let him come back to me. Or he will drag you down too!"

* * *

The alarms began to sound with a swiftness that even shocked the Pastor Jim. At first there was a slight pain and Dean's head jerked up and his eyes snapped open.

"It's time?" The reaper asked, drawing nearer with the host of spirits close around him and Dean.

Responding in a groan, Dean wanted to scream there was something wrong. He just felt it. He couldn't make sense of what it was, yet he couldn't shake the notion that something was about to happen.

"I'm sorry... We're here... let the pain go... Let go of all of it. I promise whatever happens I will try to protect you in our keeping. See those of us who you have touched and come to us. "

"NO!" Realizing he was awake and no longer thinking to the reaper form of Pastor Jim, he tried to speak, only to groan out a sickly sound from under his breathing tube.

The sound shrieked louder, or so it seemed, but definitely faster. As Dean raised his head from the bed, staring wild eyed. For a brief moment, he reached a hand out to Jim, before blood exploded from his lungs, covering his breathing tube with bright scarlet.


	27. Truth

**NOW...**

Pain spread like a virulent virus, oozing and damning every corpuscle, every muscle fiber, every tendon, and every ounce of flesh. Soon his trembles grew into full blown, violent shakes, taking over any power he possessed in his limbs. Convulsing in tremors as if he were afflicted by a several class five earthquakes, Dean shuddered at a speeds almost impossible for a human being. His oxygen breathing tube clogged, forcing air in as blood churned out. The passage of blood sprang forth from him, drowning Dean in his lifeblood. Every cell, down to the microscopic level, felt as if they were forced to split in subatomic level of pain. And for a brief moment, Dean thought he could hear his flesh cleave from him like the sound of a bandage when it is ruthless ripped from skin. Unable to speak or even clearly think, Dean's eyes demanded and begged for it all to go away.

"I'm so sorry... I..." Jim said, "Please… spare him." Perhaps he was praying to God or just saying something to let Dean know he was there, but neither could stop Armaros from hurting him now.

Dean's throat made a strange screeching sound as he fought to pull in air- simply a half whistle and half gurgle. The torso moved in discordance with his limbs. His mouth gaped open and his lip quivered, turning a strange shade of blue under the seeping crimson. Blood spurted, dribbling around and beyond the tubing, running down his chin, and spilling on his gown, sheets, and blankets.

Doctors and emergency personnel were already rushing into the room, screaming out orders, flipping switches, making demands, and rolling machinery in the room while various needles were used to inject a slew of medications into him.

"STABLIZE!" Someone screamed.

* * *

"If you were so all powerful you wouldn't need my brother!" Sam opened his mouth with another retort perched on his lips, but whatever he was going to say was lost as demon socked him back with a single arm movement. He staggered and reeled backwards, managing to keep his footing.

"Well, well… Didn't plan on that, did you? You should never take your eye off the big picture." Armaros' speech was very slow and a tad gloating as if she were preparing Sam like a skis kabob on skewer, ready for a glazing in the depths of Hell. "Do you really need Dean? Isn't he just a burden? You've thought it before."

"I'm…." Sam grabbed his head, refusing to let himself go into the vision further, hoping he could pull out of it, but the vision was like a canopy over his skills as a hunter.

The demon woman smirked as she strutted closer to him. Her plump lips grazed his ear in a too familiar way like the touch of a lover. "You know Dean and I have always had such good time.- killer time…. It's good to know I can do the same for you."

"I'LL KILL..."

"Oh, save the macho bullshit. I know you way better than that… how murky your heart beats. Right now you would relish the idea of unleashing that dark muscle… But Dean- he just wouldn't understand- won't let you give up the ghost of your dead family and accept the gift." She perched her lips and blew in his ears.

Sam remained unflinching. "GOING TO…" spilled from gritted teeth as his expression locked between hate and determination. Finally he fell to his knees. "BITCH!"

"You're a real charmer," Armaros sneered. She stood before she picked up one of the formal chair, spun in her hands as if she was simply going to sit and watch the vision happen in Sam's mind, but she smashed it across Sam's back.

"NO… I'm sending you back to hell." Sam struggled to breathe, moving despite the vision before his eyes, fighting the pain cramming inside his mind, and hoping that his resistance was enough to take her. Without thought, he leaped forward, brandished Ruby's knife, and slashed at the creature before him.

"I THOUGHT I TOLD YOU NO!" She screamed a bit more alarmed than a demon in control would have. Secretly, she was using the full extent of the power she possessed to strike Sam's darkness alive and maintain her torture on Dean. As hard as it was to believe, she was grateful that Azazel had done such a poor job training and turning Sam. He wasn't prepared for this battle. If the young man would just let go, he would be a force this world have never seen.

As it was, the images in Sam's psyche became clearer as he lived through the death of his brother. His abdomen and lungs pressed against his chest; the pain not his own, but real just the same. The knife fell from his hands and he crumpled to the floor beside of it.

"You can't make it stop… Well, you can…. Let Dean go!" She ordered.

The room grew very still before it faded away entirely. The images he had seen were a jumbled blur in his brain. Suddenly, the snippets began to flash around him, so fast he could hardly piece them all together, but one thought was clear. Dean was dying in a great deal or pain. Worse, Sam felt powerless to stop it. For all his anger, he could do nothing.

"Where are your powers now? Hmmm...Do you want to deny them now? I can show you the way. Had you not been so hell bent on defying your powers, you could have saved Dean yourself; brought him back unscathed, but you can't even stop me for all your sanctimonious platitudes. Oh sorry, let me use the simple words for you. You're full of shit and you let Dean die...like you are right now." It was as if she found out Sam's secret failure and displayed it for the world to see. "Let Dean be mine… give into it all and I will bring you both to greatness."

"NO!!" The darkest images of Sam's mind never imagined this moment. Almost immediately blood began to seep out of Dean's image, pooling on the hospital floor.

"Then he dies! Do you remember what it felt like to die, Sam? Do you remember the knife twisting inside you? Do you know how Dean begged to save you? Called out for you?"

Trying to rolling over to launch another attack, Sam's momentum was stopped. The demon drop pressed into his abdomen with both knees, but that wasn't the blow that radiated a nuclear pain in his body. The sharp point of Ruby's blade cracked against his upper leg bone, twisting down into sinewy muscle. She shoved her knees in his abs, utilizing the leverage to free the weapon and take another blow.

"You're going to pay for what you did today and the best part- I'll still have Dean. I'll bring him back while you rot away."

She jerked the blade out cleanly and quickly, following with another stab, which aimed higher than the previous thrust. The steel pushed into the soft flesh of Sam's right side. His flesh made a hollow, suctioning sound as it bore into the tender tissue.

* * *

"SUCTION!" A woman screamed, although, Dean couldn't tell who or what had spoken.

"He's not breathing!" The doctor yelped so loudly it could have awaken Dean from a coma had the pain not already shot him wake.

The ones called to watch over him drew closer, yet the injured hunter was at a loss for how they were going to help him. Faces- some he began to recognize- came for him, giving him a strange sense of inner peace when his body was the furthest from it.

"Thank you," a spirit said, and Dean immediately recognized it as Sheriff Jake Devins. "You saved my grandson and for that I won't let her take you in."

As much as Dean wanted to protest and tell the Jake that he saved his own grandson, Pastor Jim stepped in before the thought was even fully formed in Dean's head.

"No, dear boy. YOU! The lives you touched are not to be taken so lightly. Don't believe that what you have done all your life has not been worthwhile. Recall that you gave up an illusion of a good life to help save others in the real world. It is as much who you are as it was who your mother was. She died for you and Sam- trying to protect you. The apple did not fall far from Mary's or John's tree. Accept it now when it is most important to repair all that was done to you."

"TURN THE HEAD! The nurse bellowed. "GET THE TUBE OUT!"

"Clear the airway!"

Then if Dean could gasp, he surely would have. The souls clamored around him, speaking all at once, but it was one person that struck him the most. The beautiful soul he knew as Layla Rourke looked down upon him. Whatever part of his heart that wasn't dead wanted to shrivel at that moment.

"Hello, Dean… Hush now, don't mourn for me. I know now the price I would have had to endure to survive. I could not have bore that burden- the guilt that a reaper took someone in my place like the heavy heart you bore for me. My soul was free when my time came. Without you I would have lost my way and my faith. I am forever free."

"You freed us all." Offered the soft voice of Molly McNamara. "You led me home. Now it's our turn to guide you."

Everywhere his eyes darted he found more and more souls coming until it seemed the very room would pop if just one more arrived. The nurses and emergency team persisted in treatment without a notion of what was going on around them.

"I could bring forth a legion of those you touched from your childhood on… each with joy in their souls because of you. You spared them pain when no one else would have bothered. And if it's not too much for an old friend to admit, you and Sam gave me joy in the darkest of my hunting days. Helped me keep my faith when the world was so damn ugly."

He burbled a response as the breathing apparatus was yanked out of his throat. His eyes stared blankly up at the sky, unseeing. There was a copper tang on his lips, and so much blood covering his torso. The red liquid flowed into his mouth, and he had to force himself to swallow, lest he choke on his own blood.

Dean twitched and his body shook, striking out and odd angles. The tremors held tight to every fiber within him, leaving his body racked with agony. He was unraveling sharp and fast, like a rope when it's cut. His eyes rolled to the back of his eyelids, fading into darkness. Arms and legs twirled and spun wildly. But Dean was fighting, doing the only thing he innate knew how to do, and reaching out to Pastor Jim to seek refuge from this pain. The reaper grabbed his hand as the host of spirits hovered around him, waiting to lead him to the next life.

"I'm here… for what it's worth… I'm here. It's time to put the pain behind you."

"Suction!" Someone screamed.

"Get the paddles ready!"

"He's coding!"

* * *

Sam's groan made Armaros seethed in anticipation. "Aww… Poor Dean….going… going… GONE!" She jerked the knife from Sam's upper side, ready to do it all again. "You can join him in death or join with me… come on Sam… double jeopardy round… How big are you going to bet? I can make Dean rise again like a phoenix from the ashes and you too."

"Nooo….no…." Sam grabbed his stomach. His index finger plunged inside the hole where it had gone in lower left side. It was a clean puncture. He saw the blood on his fingers and the blood spreading on his shirt. He looked at the demon for a moment, and then his head jerked sharply and Sam's eyes rolled back in his head. His shoulders slumped and his head fell back, like a rag doll.

She re-launched a more precise arch of the blade, ready to give Sam more of her demonic dominance when someone grabbed her arm.

"Stop!" Wain ordered like a drill sergeant. "STOP IT NOW"

"Ah, I thought I'd seen the last of you, especially when you let go of your fight for the prize so easily...

"A little busy. Didn't plan on..."

"That Sam would bring an army to our little party? OR that they wouldn't align with you so easily..."

"That I would have to do what must be done..."

"We'll… we'll…. Back from the battle… How considerately sloppy of someone I thought you would have been finished off by Singer. Don't tell me..."

"No…" Sam groaned. The words that Bobby had fallen were too much to bear along with the sights of his mind. Adding more insulting injury, Missouri still lay very still while Sam could only bleed.

"You killed Bobby Singer… more than I gave you credit for being cap…"

"I'm afraid he got in the way this time. And as much as I would like to see you get a sticky ending by him."

"Please. That pathetic blubbering fool. He was weaker than a certain little- blonde--"

"Bobby may deserve to waste your ass after you killed his son. Shame I can't let him finish you, but you've grown too strong over the years for any hunter to take you. So it's just you and me."

"You should have seen his face that day... his boy... so much begging... and when he saw his darling wife over him... stabbing that little pretty boy… Just priceless. He begged her to stop...just like Dean begged me... wanting me to end his suffering."


	28. Whose Side?

**THEN... South Dakota 1980**

A small spatter of red stained the left corner of Bobby's mouth, dribbling down until it almost dropped on his clean white shirt. Reacting quickly, Bobby wiped the slightly thicken jelly off his neatly shaven face before he crossed the threshold into his house. Susan would never forgive him for scarfing a raspberry filled donut just before dinner, but truth be told, he was never really fond of her meatloaf.

"Lucy, I'm home!" He screamed as always, even though he knew Susan hated when he quoted Ricky Ricardo. Yet, today she didn't answer with her usual tone of amused annoyance. "Come on... it ain't that bad," he added when he got no response.

"Mark! Better get ready if you want to make that game."

The house, a personification of deathly quiet, only responded with the creaks of his boots against the newly buffed floor boards. The lack of sound was completely unlike his normal paced household.

"What in Sam'hell are you two up to?"

"MARCUS ETHAN SINGER! If you and your momma are playing a joke, I'll..."

There was no giggle, no squeal, or no snort. Only the sound of maddening, deafening silence bellowed back at him.

"Honey?" He said a bit panicked and enraged. "Sue? Marcus?" Worry overrode any anger now as he called out.

Slowly, he walked through his living room and straight into his son's bedroom. There before his eyes- a sight that would make any horror movie pale in comparison, his wife stooped- blood stained- over his equally bloody son.

"MY GOD!" He uttered before he let loose an enraged scream.

"I could be!" Armaros smarted, staring at him from the shell of his beloved wife. She crooked a devilish delighted grin when she plunged a knife into Mark's lifeless body, letting Bobby watched the massacre. Shortly after, she leaped forward towards Bobby with the knife directed towards him.

"SUSAN!" He screamed without processing all that was happening in front of him. He pitched backward when his possessed wife made contact while he kept the blade from entering his flesh. Usually, he could easily over power his wife, but today she had this otherworldly strength.

She rolled against him. The gentle bow of his legs trusted up and bucked his captor a small distance. Yet, the demon launched again, powering towards him again. He deflected it, pushing her away.

"No! What have you done!"

"Stopping you're line… it's dangerous…. Did you never ask dear Susan how she had him when she was born as barren as a desert without rain? BBBUUTTT then she made a little deal with a certain..."

His eyes widened as she came for him again. This time he redirected her blow, bending her arm until it would surely break, but the move only changed the knife's thrust. The blade tip sank into her abdomen instead. His fingers lost the power to grip, his arm lost the power to lift, and his body lost the ability to obey. He just stood there with his hand loosely on the knife.

The demon laughed, pushing forward, sinking the steel fully until only the hilt protruded from Susan's body, enjoying the inches of cold metal parting tissue, hissing as it went into her.

"Stab me again," She said.

When it was obvious, Bobby wouldn't or couldn't fight back, glaring in disbelief at his wife, the demon lunged forward, taking hold of his neck until he began to turn blue. With ease, she lifted him from the floor, watching him die.

"3 for 1! Best odds of the year. This should put me high on the board to win the trip to Hawaii." She joked as the man squirmed between the power of her crushing fingers.

Finally, survival kicked in, and he found himself reaching for and pulling the knife from his wife's abdomen. Unknowingly, he thrust repeatedly until he was released.

"ARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!" His voice found no words as first when he watched Susan fall.

"Bobby!" A strong scream and a weaker moan mingled together. Suddenly, she stopped moving and blackness poured out from her. The air seemed to crackle with an electric charge that seemed to spark like children's laughter, only more disparaging.

"Susan?" He begged. "Hold on. Please, God, just let her hold on."

"She… she killed Marcus… please… please...not my…" She started but would never finish the thought.

He scooped her in his arms and then pulled Marcus to him. "No," his voice cracked and his mouth scrunched in agony. He gazed at his son's fixed eyes. A tremble now twinged in his voice. "No…. No, Mark… please... Susan……please."

A tear surged down his face and fell upon his son's forehead. A pang hit his soul, crushing it into a cesspool of pain and anger within him, which devoured him as he fixated on their hollow unchanging eyes. A torrent of tears gushed down his face and his body shuddered with disbelief.

"No….No… no."

His breath came out in gasp of crying. His face twisted with misery, melancholy, and throbbing agony. He rocked them gently, half shaking and half crying.

"Please, GOD PLEASE! Don't let this happen. Please don't let them be gone… please...no…nnnoo..."

* * *

**Now...**

When Sam heard the truth about the demon's past with Bobby, he lacked a full ability to believe it. Much as he lacked the desire to recognize that Bobby may truly be dead. The demon before him had wiped out Bobby's family and years later hurt his brother. With those thoughts, he pushed with all the power he possessed in him to put his demon blood within in some forgotten and closed corner within him- to control it when it mattered most.

"I'm gonna wipe that sneer right off your face," Wain declared with a malicious grin, ripping away Ruby's weapon from the demon's fingers. The blade clattered to the floor and promptly stuck in the hardwood beneath them.

"Should we take a wager... say Sam? Bet that would just kill you…. To lose everything…"

"You almost did kill me once. Now it's time to abort your whole friggin' species"

They stood five feet apart, eyeing each other. Armaros said nothing, just watched him as he held her arm at bay. She didn't make a flinch as a knowing smile spread across her lips. Both of them knew it, it was as clichéd and as destined a battle like Luke and Vader in the movies. It was only after much thought that the demon spoke.

"I suppose there is certain poetry to it all. I kill Singer's family... but that's not it. You just can take I got too damn close to Sam and Dean...in ways I never thought possible. Still can't accept they would rather die than follow a pathetic fool like..."

"You sure like to talk."

"You know this may just kill everything you are."

"But I'll have vengeance and the satisfaction of knowing my plans will outlive yours. "

"Strange it comes down to you and me when I plotted death for you for so long…" Armaros said.

The crack of splintering echoed through the quiet of the house. Soon she clattered to the floor. The shock of Wain's blow was almost as powerful as if she crashed into an unmovable object.

"I'm tired of damn DEMON PLOTS!"

"FOOL!" She screamed.

With a flick of her wrist, Armaros sent Wain flying a good thirty feet into one of the walls, which almost crumpled around him. The tenfold savage power of hell itself thumped within that blow, engorged with the intention of death. He slumped to the ground for a second as if stunned, but he was far from finished.

Wain shifted into a spin, pouring his full energy into pushing upright in an otherworldly Matrix move. With a quiet rage, Wain charged in crisp movements, sharp like his bones were snapping into place. His body moved as graceful and deadly as wolf when Wain pummeled into the demon's torso. As he connected, they began a tug of war with each other. Arms were locked in place, the unbending iron will of two otherworldly creations on display.

Sam's neck snapped back, his head began to clear, but the images of what he seen still burned on this retina- a sight that can't be unseen and never forgotten. Passion drove him forward as the darkness curled around the edges of his will. Sam was stunned, yet furious. No careful temperance remained, just a sharp, pure expression of feelings.

"No, Sammy!" Wain called out. His voice echoed by the voice of Missouri, who awoke amid the battle. She was trying to crawl towards the injured Sam.

"She wants you to go there...STOP! Baby stop!" Missouri cried out.

The battle shifted directly above Sam as Armaros couldn't resist the breakdown of yet another Winchester. "Come on coward. Show me what your demon Daddy gave you."

"Not in this lifetime!" Wain offered, providing an obstacle in her way. It was obvious in the way he faltered, Armaros powers were greater and eventually she would wear him down.

"This delay is meaningless! You can't win!" The she demon demanded, as Wain wrestled with her. Both holding on like bars of forged iron against the tempest power of a hurricane. The duo engaged in some dark ending Waltz as both of them fought for a control of Dean.

"You can't kill me."

"Don't plan of being the one to kill you."

For a moment, Sam breathed in, letting everything that John, Bobby, and especially Dean had taught him have command. He struck like a scorpion- quick and deadly. His right hand shot forward, finding Ruby's knife. In a stab almost too quick to be seen, Sam jabbed the point forward, upward in between Wain's legs, driving the blade at an upward angle plowing the sharp metal upwards in Armaros' gut.

"I thought I'd leave that up to him."

In the beginning, she looked calm as if they had just performed as puppets in her game and gave her exactly what she wanted. Yet, quickly her expression changed as her eyes flashed with her demise. The first signs of trepidation painted on her demonic face. "Not poss…" she muttered before Wain pivoted her around, letting her fall to the floor in a thunderous slam.

Time began to slow down as Sam monitored the demons fall in minuscule increments. He watched horrified, knowing he didn't have enough energy to fight Wain and the weapon still gouged inside of Armaros. Whatever plans this man had, he didn't know if he could face him. Blood still seeped from the knife wounds in his leg and stomach,

For a moment, Wain seemed ill concerned about Sam. Grasping the demon's neck, Wain twisted a golden necklace off of her. "Told you bitch! I'd get what I want. Now, he belongs to me. My claim always preceded yours..."

Sam watched horrified as the man drew closer, but Missouri went to his defense. Seconds later, Wain simply held in place mid swing.

"No...You can't help him." he said calmly as his hand reached out to the wound in Sam's side. The fingers made contact with his delicate flesh. Without hesitation it plowed inside and the bleeding stopped.

"I can't heal you fully..." Suddenly the other hand gripped around Sam's leg wound, doing the same treatment to it. "But, I need you alive."

"I won't fight for you."

"Yes, you will... you just don't know it yet."

"Go to..."

The creature's hand pushed past the layers of skin and tissue, until it slowed down and stopped for good, no doubt piercing all the way through Sam. Just as quickly, Wain withdrew his hand. With a start, Sam realized his face felt dotted with something warm

For a second, he wondered in Wain had let loose a tear, but when he looked up there wasn't any. Sam lay frozen for a moment in time. He couldn't measure how long as he faced Wain, ready to fight and waiting for the next move. Instead of battle, Wain promptly faded away like the image vanishes from exposed film, leaving Sam with an expression like Wain must be from another planet.


	29. The Living

**Author's Note: Just a quick update. The last chapter should be huge and tie it all up. But, I got really busy and haven't got it all finished. So, the last chapter will be up in a few days. Remind me to never write any fanfic this big again! Course, if you're reading then it's worth it . ****Thanks!**

* * *

"SAM!" Missouri bellowed as the slightly wonky hunter rolled slowly to his knees, tentatively testing his weight on his injured leg.

To his surprise, his leg and abs were more tender than painful. Whatever Wain had done, sure did the trick, but any reasoning behind it was lost on Sam.

"I don't understand...

"I don't know. There was darkness there- anger- vengeance. When he flashed on me, I felt this tidal wave of pain and regret. He wanted her dead... you could just feel it."

"But why? I mean, it's not like demons are big on help. He... what... he saved me... and just let Bobby..."

All that matters is that you're..."

I'm fine... hurts like..." Sam gave her a look, but his mind was elsewhere, mainly Dean and Bobby. "They're gone...they're."

"Honey, you can't think like that."

"I think...Dean and Bobby... I think..." He couldn't finish the thought, but instead began yelling. "They're GONE!"

"Are you trying to wake the dead, boy?" A groggy man answered leaning against the adjacent doorway.

A brief flash of sorrow skittered across Sam's face before he allowed a sense of relief to hustle that emotion away.

"Something like that." Sam rushed him, almost knocking Bobby over as he grabbed his friend in a bear hug.

"Whoa... hold up now..."

"You're okay?"

"A bit surprised myself."

"Sam thought you were dead."

"Wain... he said... he took care of you."

"Believed he had..." Missouri started.

"Damn thing had me in his crosshairs and next thing I know I'm waking up from a siesta. Don't know why he spared..." He pushed Sam away, reassuring him with a nod that he was okay. It was then that Bobby noticed the bloodstains on Sam's clothing. "Son, sit down before you fall down..."

"I'm fine...really...Dean... we have to check on Dean."

"Hold on now. You look you been dipped in blood and you say you're okay."

I... I have to..." Sam stopped.

"Dean's probably got a six pack waitin' for us right now." Bobby lied, reading the dread on Sam's face.

* * *

**Later...**

Rushing through the hospital corridors, Bobby and Missouri struggled to keep up with Sam, who surely could have broken a land speed record in long distance running in addition to race car driving on the way back. Bobby had to practically tie him down to check on the wounds and get Sam to change into clean clothes. Somehow, Bobby made sure he was completely satisfied before he would let Sam have his way.

In truth, Sam was blindly rushing to save Dean. The threat of Armaros gone, but yet the images in the vision plagued a worry into his mind. He believed if he got there faster, he still might save his brother. The demon told him he had the power within him and if it even meant his ruin, Sam would bring Dean back. As he skidded to a stop, Father Flanery blocked his progress, holding the panic at bay for a moment. The same gentle soul of Pastor Jim had returned to the form his friends knew him as in the here and now in Sam's time of need.

"You walk a dangerous line." He offered. "The expression on your face tells me you want to break a boundary... Death is not to be manipulated...it's..."

"NO! He's not... NO!!"

"Easy, Sam..." The pastor tried to hold the young man back, but found Sam's temperament was worse than a branded buck. "Calm... calm...give them a minute."

It was at that second that a nurse passed bad with a clear trash bag, piled full of blood stained sheets. That was all the evidence it took to knock down any rationality the young man had. "NO DAMMIT!!" He busted in the room, ready to claw through anyone in his path. Almost manic, he reached out to the doctor in Dean's room with a demand of why on his lips. He wanted to scream, but the sound just would not form in his throat when Dean's doctor spoke.

"HOLD ON! It's alright, he's stable. It took him a bit, but he is responding well."

"What?" the dumbfounded Sam said.

Without notice, Bobby, Missouri, and the disguised Pastor Jim entered.

"Honestly, I don't know. We lost him for a moment, then it was like nothing was there. We've done testing and scans for bleeders, but it's like he healed on his own. We're giving him..."

Absently, he walked to stare down at Dean. For the first time, Sam noticed the gentle rise of Dean's chest. "He's alive."

"Very much so. He's not out of the woods, but he put up one hell of a fight."

"He had some people looking out for him." The pastor offered. "And some otherworldly interference." Jim glanced back at the shadows, taking note of the spirit holding there.

"Kiddo? Dean?" Bobby asked with trepidation.

Dean blinked slowly and glanced at his brother and Bobby, wanting to tell them about Jim and everything he had learned and point out the vanishing spirits in the room. A thousand questions and words rolled in his mind, but as each second passed the less of them he could retain.

"He's...he's..." A longing expression of relief froze on Sam's face. He began to inspect his brother with critical eyes, looking for any signs of injury or weakness.

"I still need to do some testing, but for the first time I believe he is on the way to healing." The doctor informed the mismatched family. "The coma..."

"Why don't you give them some time," the priest suggested. "We can worry about the small things later."

"I think that can be arranged. Just let him get plenty of sleep," the doctor ordered as he left the cluster of family in the room.

"There now. That's better," the holy man offered. "Seems to me, my job with you is done. It is good to see you alert again, young man. But, you have to promise to take better care in the future. Us old men aren't as capable as we use to be."

As his thoughts dwindled away, Dean grabbed Sam's hand, trying desperate to tell them about Jim.

"Speak for yourself." Bobby laughed.

"Easy! I'm here," Sam ordered the quickly fading Dean. "Don't try to talk."

"Listen to your brother. Things will be fine. Why don't you just rest?" Jim smiled down at Dean. "And stay out of trouble."

Don't worry. I'll make sure of it." Sam gave Dean a half smile, but it wasn't genuine. Sam was still too caught up in the vision he had seen and the questions in his own mine. He was relived to see that his brother seemed to be alright, though a bit shaken, and was even more relived to see him awake.

"I don't understand this... All of it makes no sense." Frustration boiled in Sam's response.

"Sneaky bastards!" Bobby yelled. "I can't help gettin' the feeling we're just collateral damage in some larger game."

"But is the game really over?" Sam asked.

"I can't say for sure. But, the reading I got from Wain...I... he wanted to help you. But, I can't see why."

"What are you talkin' bout! He was a part of this... don't know how... don't care..." Bobby spitted out.

"I can't explain it, but... he was...Whatever Wain was, it stopped to heal Sam." Missouri noted. "There was such power there, but it was... different... not like..."

"Just another demon jockeying for position and he had his own designs for something, but we ain't just seen what yet."

"I don't care," Sam said softly. "He can wait. I'll settle up with him one day, but Dean's alive...he's..."

Suddenly, Dean struggled, yanking and pulling at Bobby's hand and at Sam's. His mind was going blank and he had to fight it.

"Easy boy... easy... it's over. I promise." Bobby let out relief in a huff that shifted some hairs in his beard and mustache.

"He's scared... so scared of returning to hell...of...…" Missouri flashed a grimace and a soft glance at Dean.

"You ain't ever goin' back!" Bobby interjected.

He wanted to bellow a scream, but everything around him turned to mush. When he tried to talk it came out as mindless gibberish.

"Rest now." Jim tells him. "When you wake again none of it will matter. Things will be better soon."

"That's right baby, we're all here... you go on now. We aren't going anywhere."

Pastor Jim smiled as everyone but Dean couldn't see his true self. Shortly, even Dean would forget, but while the young man still stood on the brink of death's door, he smiled; comforted in the fact Dean was on his way away from the other world instead of towards it.

"He's going to be fine." The father said. "Sadly, I think others are more in need of the Lord's guidance than Dean at the moment. Bet you never expected anyone to say that to you, did ya, Dean?"

Jim turned and pierced a gaze through the darkness to glare at Wain, who was lurking in darkness as if he might be hiding and watching as events unfolded.

Dean bolted upright, ready to scream as a man stepped out of the shadows, holding his mother's locket. For the life of him, he couldn't figure why Bobby, Sam, and Missouri aren't reacting to him. Instead, they just push him down.

"Give it time, boy. We got you."

"Easy... don't you argue with me now... I'm of mind to tan your hide for scaring us like this," Missouri offered.

"I'd listen to her Dean. She is not one for idle threats." Sam insisted before turning to say goodbye to the priest. "Can I offer you..."

"You owe me nothing." Jim told Sam. "Just watch out for each other. And it wouldn't hurt either of you to say a Hail Mary or two... and pray for the Bears every Sunday."

"They would need divine intervention." Sam added.

"Now if you'll excuse me, I'm afraid I have to prepare a sermon on thou shalt not steal. Someone has something that doesn't belong to them and it seems I have more work to do than I planned." Jim turned, staring blankly at Wain.

"Padre... we... I..."

"Don't worry, Bobby. We will see each other again one day. I am sure of it. Until then take care of each other."

Dean grumbled as he tried to yell stop and warn them about Wain, but all his body could do was drift to the numbing and welcoming peace of sleep.

"Hush baby... hush..." Missouri began to hum a half broken tune, which strengthened to a full melody when Dean let out a relieved sigh and slight snore.

As they all focused on having Dean back, none of them bothered to watch the priest simply disappear from their sight to join the watcher.

"I know you are still here," the priest said.

"Wasn't hidin'." Wain responded.

"You have what you wanted all along, but what are you willing to risk to keep it."


	30. The Dead

The fact that you won't face me in your true state..." Jim looked on at the spectre before him with disappointment. How far into the darkness have you gone...How long are you going to torture..." Jim stared to ask, but was interrupted.

"Until I know..."

"Know what! That everything will go the way you want it to. Remember the puppet master is often killed by its creations. What will you make him do?"

"Nothing!"

"Liar. You healed Sam and then... came to heal Dean..."

"Can you blame me?"

"But at what price, my friend. Please drop the facade. Why play such games?"

"You should talk!"

"I couldn't- I was forbidden to interfere. I was only here to provide comfort and take Dean to some peace."

"He's fine where he is."

"He can't live forever. Not as flesh. Dean's time will come, but you are still in the game as if you can win it like some blips on a TV screen. Can't you see that? Even your name... WAIN ETCHERS- A WINCHESTER in anagram. You wanted to leave Sam and Dean clues to know you are here, even though you feel it's dangerous. Just to be close... come now, it's not like I can't see it's you. We never... "

With that Wain dropped his illusion and only John's image remained. The man that seemed to be pitted against them thorough Dean's ordeal showed his true form."Can't blame me for leaving a little clue. I had to show as Wain… to throw off anything else…"

How arrogant. You've made excuses for your actions. "

"And seems to me you did more than comfort."

"Pretending to be something... appearing before them...You should not be here. You should have crossed over long ago. You place the boys in more danger with every passing moment. Is this what you wanted?" Pastor Jim asked.

"Ended up better than I hoped." John scoffed.

"That you used almost all of your energy to heal Sam and did the same for Dean... but you can't...you can't lose that precious claim on Dean."

"If I go over...then I lose him."

"If the boys know you are around, the demons will use that knowledge against them."

"And you happen to take it upon yourself to come here and take the form of a priest… very original."

"I guess we both are still old con men. But I was sent to reap a Winchester...and even on this side I don't have all the answers."

"You were guiding them."

"I was giving them hope."

"And now he just loses that knowledge- Dean goes on feeling just as abandoned as before."

"No, he won't remember us until he is ready to pass again, but I was permitted to leave him with the joy he felt in the presence of the people he helped. He deserved that much."

"He deserves more!"

"And you are going to make sure he gets it?"

"By hell I will."

"You're right. Hell will be the one leading you down that path. At first, it's just a little manipulation...good and easy thing for a con man to dismiss. Then you start moving the pieces. Directing them how you wanted. Like pulling your boys in this game how you chose. You moved the obstacles- put up the wall- leaked information in your own time. All unnecessary. Then you gave them the name. You interfere with GOD's time."

"I want to stop losing people we love. I want….I want Dean to be safe."

"And it's that easy? Have you ever got what you wanted before?"

"This time."

"And what do you do now?"

"My family needs me and if I can only be there for them in a small way, that will be fine."

"This isn't over. You know as well as I do. The thing after those boys lost its hold on Dean, but it's not going to give up. Do you think it's only one small demon you have to kill? Look inside of yourself. Soon you will turn... serve someone even worse than Armaros. It's only a matter of time before it seeks you out and you will fall to it... your soul will perish a bit each day. You're an abomination. Coming here wasn't your place."

"I can't switch it off! Are you asking me to watch the pain?"

"No, but don't cause it. Go ahead reveal yourself and let those boys watch you turn to something that is worse than a walking shadow. You want him to know it was you. The over the top hints. You called them tiger. You know the stakes and the dangers in this. Why don't you just lay out the cards behind John Winchester's new poker face?"

"I'm keeping them safe..."

"BULLSHIT! You are losing yourself... every second. You could have played this differently. Tell me. If you showed up... told Bobby... hey the demon that destroyed your life has its hooks in Dean... Even if he thought you were not who you seemed, he would have checked into it. Where is John- the straight shooter? That's the Winchester I know."

"I couldn't. I need to stay a secret like a weapon."

"No! You liked the thrill… the gamemaster... thrived on it. Can't you feel that? The darkness in you is growing. I didn't recognize your presence I felt when you demanded I help you. I had to be shown by... the man I knew…. He is soon to be no more… "

"Save the sermon..."

"Everyday more of you is lost. I can take you over, make you whole again. I was here for you all along and until now I didn't know it."

"But they need me. I don't care if it kills all that I am. Sam killed her... for Dean and for Bobby and I won't be sorry for that. It was worth it to see them…" John let a ghost of a smile play at his lips. "Thought I had saved him years ago, I didn't know the she would come back for him. I had to make sure she died this time. I promised him."

"I thought I was here for Dean, but I'm here for you... because of you... Can't you feel it... the pieces of who you were drifting from you, taking your further away from the light."

"It saved my boys."

"And when all the kindness and love you have has been eaten away... Why did you stop Sam's darkness?"

"The demons can't have them!"

"But, it's all okay for you to turn... twist in a demonic playground. Stay here and you will turn to something that is at best a vengeful spirit and at worse a full on demon. Can you tell me right now, that you could face having Dean hunt you down, kill you? Ignore what you would become. What would that do to Dean?"

"He would be strong."

"Don't lie to yourself. He would shatter. You remember the hurt in that boy. Don't make the man relieve it. When is it enough!? You know he can't stop trying to save you all. "

"He would do what he has to. I can't leave him. They need me and I can find ways to keep them safe. I fooled Sam, Bobby, Dean, even Missouri."

"You would not have been capable of the ruse had you not been walking down this path of ruin. Your own children couldn't see you in Wain... and that should scare you more."

"They just didn't have time to see."

"You were just standing next to Dean and all he saw was hate and the need for warning. He could feel it seeding inside you. Is that the last thing you want to legacy to your son? Is it more hate- pain- regret? Can you honestly answer now, as bad as you are getting, that you wish him to face killing you? Can you say you're sorry for the monster you will become? Will that make him feel better? Can you break what's left of his heart?"

"He needs... I have possession of a part of him now."

"Forget you... Let's talk about your 'POSSESSION'... When did you become the owner of him... He's not a thing! He's you're son- a person you should love and respect as a grown man, but he is a trinket in your hand to you now. One day the dark will take over and you will be just like Armaros... hurting him... can you look in Dean's eyes knowing you will..."

"Stop..."

"But you won't stop... never! Dean will beg… you remember what that's like. When the yellow possessed you and made you hurt him. The look on his face as he called out to you- unable to reconcile that his father could allow that to happen. He believed in you when you always told him that you could protect them. Trusted in it…. But you lied… everyday to him… and still he believed….not because of some stupid idea of a big bad solider… because you were his father… You won't stop it…not until someone kills you. Will it be Sam? Wonder how Dean will feel knowing Sam destroyed all that was left of his father...or better yet... Bobby? You can forget Dean asking for his help again. So that means they are on their own without any guidance. So the next time Dean's in pain it will be because of you. How you liking the irony!? You save him now just to become a replacement for Armaros. Stay and love them for a brief moment... Maybe it will be a few years...I know Dean would beg for you to do it now. The loss of you devastated them both. But in the end of things...defeated... broken..."

"STOP IT!" John huffed, flying towards Jim as if he wanted to rip the words out of Jim's throat.

"See... you see the path you are walking. Remember I saw how you were ripped apart, finding Deans so close to death, battered- abused and almost not human. What will you do to him on your day? Come with me to peace and let Dean have some too."

"I can't…. I can't leave this time, not when..."

"There are those ready to protect Sam and Dean and you know it..."

* * *

**THEN... December 1989**

The wind against the cabin rolled, as Bobby stared John down. "So you want to tell me the truth now?" He asked. You didn't fight a Banshee did ya?"

"How could you tell?"

"Been at this too long... conned better than you have dreamed I imagine. Dean said the demon took his momma... So unless Sam has a different mother... you ain't been at this too long..."

"Five...six years... what the difference...

"And the cuts are too far apart. Those things have neat claws… like razor blades….Why did you lie to your boys?"

"To keep them safe and sane. I almost lost Dean to this…"

"The thing that hurt him? Something…"

"A demon. I didn't want him to know. I promised him she was already dead."

"Don't seem wise. Kids scared like he's keeping everyone close. Don't know if it's to protect him or you."

"Yeah, then why did he trust you?"

"Wasn't easy. Just seem to take to my cantankerous ways. Maybe he recognized a hunter cause he is one."

"What can we do about it now?"

"Could slug it out some more."

"Likely..." John added, still not pleased with a new addition in their lives, especially one he knew very little about.

"Or drink a few beers and find out what led us both to this hellish life. I think your lies will keep for another day."

"Forever." John mouthed.

"For the life of me, I don't think you want Dean seeing any more worries at the moment- not even a good fist fight."

"Beer… sounds good. Guess it's time to lay the cards on the table and see where the chips fall."

"Ain't much to tell, Damn demon showed up one day and took over my wife simple as that.."

"It's never simple." John countered, more to himself than Bobby. "You get so cold…. Like nothing will ever dig you out of the hole they put you in."

"Yeah, but then sometime life surprises you... when you least suspect it, you find that people need you and it..." Bobby glanced back at the boy's bedroom.

"Never found that." John stated.

"Then you need to look around you, buddy. Take a strong look at those boys."

* * *

**Now...**

With a hostile thud, Bobby inched forward, barely keeping the takeout bags in his hand.

"Dammit... Sorry, man..." A young man, dressed in army fatigues, said after bumping into Bobby. As he impacted, he carefully picked Bobby's wallet. "I just got too much on my mind and I didn't even notice you there."

"It's best to keep your eyes peeled..."

The man gave him a solemn look like he longed to be anywhere but the parking lot of a hospital.

"Ah... shit happens" Bobby scoffed in a particularly good mood.

"I'm really sorry." The response was a little more sincere than it was supposed to sound. "I know... I know... Got my sons on my mind. They sorta..."

"Got in deep..." Bobby offered.

"Sounds like you got a few of your own."

"Not anymore... I once did."

"Oh, sorry. I just assumed you were a..."

"Here for friends."

"You don't seem to act like you're visiting friends. I've seen that look- hell had that look- more times than I could count. Anyway, thanks for not taking my head off... I think you could do that pretty easy and I might deserve it."

"Nah, I only do that to a boogeyman...and they are in short supply these days."

The young man chuckled, "Good, then I can rest easy with my sons on that count."

"If your kids are like Dean and Sam you may just want to duck and cover until they hit teenage years, and then get yourself body armor and a tank."

"Sounds about right… just like great kids."

"Heck, men now... not that they act it. But they are- really... Ahh...hell I think children live to learn new ways to give you grey hair. Take care now." Bobby offered as he took leave from the seemingly worried man.

As the Bobby walked away, the young father leafed inside of Bobby wallet, finding the adoption drawing. Carefully, he put the locket inside of the worn paper's folds whispering a small amount of Latin before he closed it all. Finally, he rushed after Bobby, calling out as he sprinted.

"Hey! Hey... excuse me! I think I knocked this out of your pocket when I bumped you. Is it yours?"

"Hell, I am getting old."

"You seem to have as much weighing on your soul as I do mine- so maybe we are all not ourselves these days.

"Use to be able to tell it was gone by the weight. Course money ain't as heavy as it use to be- not enough of it." Without missing a stitch, Bobby glanced inside making sure everything appeared to be in place.

"Nothing's like it use to be."

"I'd tell you to say that again, but I know too damn many people to agree with ya."

"Still some people are still worth it."

"Yeah, got me on that one." Bobby said, but his mind was really on Dean and his former family.

"Sorry again. Take care." The young man said, taking steps in the opposite direction. As Bobby shuffled from view entering the hospital, the young father dropped the fake image and John watched his friend until not even a shadow could be seen.

A slight smile flipped on his face, but his eyes were full of sorrow. "Take care of him..." He said as he faded back to his son's room.

* * *

"I'd say I was proud of you." Jim offered a small amount of justified pride in John. "Did he realize..."

"He'll never know… and if he finds that... it will just be some useless thing he picked up and forgot."

"He would never use it even if he knew he has that power. He loves Dean…." Jim reminded John.

"Facing him was damn hard. Guess the demon bonded them together. Use to bother me how close the boys got to him, but now..."

"Things look different on this side."

"No…. just… I know Dean will be safe with him. Bobby proved himself time and again. I was wrong so many times, but he always stuck by us… Like all our good friends. I don't think I can do this."

"You can. One day, Dean will need you on this side. I promise. Bobby will make sure…"

"Guess Dean always knew that even when he was a scared pup. They connected because of that demon. I didn't understand it then, but ... they needed each other and we needed someone to pull us out of our own pain. I don't want to leave them... not like this... in pain… they'll never know how...

"An exception can be made. He will remember the power of the lives he touched and maybe something else…"

"…All the hell he went through."

"No… that his father loves him and got to say goodbye."

* * *

"Sammy?" John said. "He can't hear me…" Even with John's attempt to heal them both, he had not gain all the knowledge needed to bring them back fully.

More like a war hoop than a snore, Sam's body protested the lack of sleep and battle weariness. A loud, rumbling intake of air stirred Dean slightly. Within seconds, Dean sighed, falling back to deep sleep. Sam managed to move some, only to learn further over Dean's forearm. A heavy drop of spittle made threats at the corner of his lips.

"Damn, they look so young...so..."

"Just put a hand on them. I'll make sure they see you. We don't have long…but I promise you this…. They'll always have this with them… forever."

Then as if the boys were touched by an electric eye they found themselves in the brightest place they had ever seen.

"Sammy?" Dean mouthed.

"Where..." Sam said, equally confused.

"Okay, I'm officially dreaming!"

"Maybe you are," a voice called out.

Dean flashed a sad lopsided smile, turning his head slightly. "Dad?"

"Hello, boys. I know you have lots of things you want to say... but you don't have to... you never did..."

"I... I..." Sam started.

"Hush now... Let an old man say his peace with some dignity". John's voice sounded croaky. He knew that he would be a weak chink for his sons. He knew in order for him to move on and his boys to move on, he would have to leave them to fend for each other.

"What… I…" Sam protested.

"I never got to say goodbye to my sons… never said…"

"Dad, please..." Dean begged in shock.

"You must think I'm the worse father. I screwed up so much I think I might have set a world record. But I had you... I never told you... never said a word... just assumed... "

"No, it's okay… You didn't..." Sam offered.

"Yes, I did. You told me that plenty of times... hurt so much that you were right. I know you thought I hated your spirit, Sam... That drive to defy me. Truth is, it scared me. I thought if I could keep you in some boundary, the yellow eye would never be able to touch you."

"And you... Damn, Dean. I expected so much and you always found more to give. I was never there for you when you needed me. And you deserve better. I'm not going to make excuses for any of it."

"This can't be real."

"Does it matter?"

"Yes," Dean interrupted. "You shouldn't have….. Should be here... not…me…"

"Course I had to…. You… you're my boy. I couldn't live without you. I'm okay. I'll be waiting for you. But, I need you both to know this. I never wanted this life for you. I wanted you to know love and kindness, but I couldn't find my way back. But I loved you both... Damn, I could have lost my mind with how much you meant to me. I let fear and the need to control... Sam... I'm proud of you for standing your ground and doing what you want... Dean-you healed this family more times than I can count. Always had my back even when I was completely wrong. "

"I have to go for good... but I'm sorry I was scared and never said what I should have. Most parents don't worry about their kids getting destroyed by demons! How good of an excuse is that! Hey boys, I'm scared! Just dread that if I slip up my boys will die alone in so much pain."

Dean breathed in, moved forward, and threw his arms around his dad's neck, leaning on a bristly cheek and squeezing him tight. He trembled afraid to let go. "Dad," he whispered.

"I have to go…"

"NO… no…" Dean sniffled.

"I got you son. I got you... "Sam?"

His youngest boy hadn't waited for an invitation either, but let himself be pulled in to the embrace. "I'm sorry," he began, but John didn't let him speak.

"Neither of you have anything to be sorry for. I loved you and always will. You were more than I could ever ask for. Can you remember that? How you grew up so well is not my doing, but you make me so damn proud to call you mine. I carry my love for you…." John cracked. "I carried it for so long… I wish I could give you the life you need, but I have to go now. Goodbye boys."

Before either boy had a chance to speak or reach out John was gone and the connection faded. They were both back asleep and alone in their own thoughts.

"I know that was hard." Jim offered. "Ready to go now?"

"Just let me watch them for a bit more... just a little bit more. To make sure they are okay."

Instantly the door opened as Missouri popped her head in the cracked doorway. When the door squeaked to a close, Sam bolted upright.

"Sorry. I didn't want to wake you…baby…what's wrong?''

"Nothing... just... just had a dream.

"About John?"

"Yeah, he...he was...How did..."

She gave him a look.

"Nevermind." Sam smiled. "Think I just wanted to see him... He… he told us he loved us… that we… we…. I never told…never got"

"To say goodbye. You papa knew…. Truth is I keep thinking about him. Can't seem to shake him after all this time. Maybe I got to use to his hardass. Never did drill enough good sense in him."

"We all got that thick head."

"Don't you be talkin' like that round me." She scoffed and glared with a hard look.

Sam laughed. "Yes ma'am."

A familiar voice sounded out from his left. It seemed to reverberate through his skull. Dean squeezed his eyes shut. He rolled in the white, crisp sheets on his bed.

"Now, you can work on teaching Dean those same manners.

"Hey," Dean said gruffly.

"You feelin' okay?"

"I'm trying to sleep here."

"Don't you even think of getting up." Missouri ordered.

"I will if I want to." Dean peaked open one eye and then let the other one follow to give the rebellious impression of thinking about it, but had already decided against it. He wasn't sure who would give him hell first.

"Don't you back sass me again. I still need to take a switch to your behind and a bar of soap to your mouth for what you said during the coma."

"How could I say anything…"

"You thought it…"

"I did what?"

"You got pretty mouthy." Sam admitted.

"I did?"

"And don't think you not remembering saves you one ounce of hide."

"No, ma'am," Dean said with sarcasm.

She raised her hand as if to smack him a good one, but only grazed and rough Dean's hair with fondness. He beamed a smile

John shook his head laughing. "Charmer to the end."

"They'll be okay now. They would want you safe and at peace."

"Sheesh, great way to start the week." Dean muttered.

"Week… try longer than that…"

"Stop. I ain't that bad."

"Came within an inch of meeting your maker." Missouri gave him a suspicious eye.

"Good thing he tossed you back."

"Heaven doesn't want me and hell just spits me back." Dean grinned.

"Don't press that boy!" Missouri warned.

Just then, Bobby entered, balancing two bags of grub. "Hey… about time you got up… lazy bones. Next time you think not telling us your hurt is a good idea……

"Hey! I was fine…."

"Don't start." Missouri smiled.

"Why is that the first thing everyone says to me?" Dean shook his head in mock gloom before changing the subject. "What the doctor's say?"

"You're a pain in the ass." Bobby suggested.

"Smart doctor!" Sam smarted.

"How're you feeling?" Bobby asked giving Dean the once over.

"Like crap. What do you expect? And why does it look like you all got fired on Viva la Bam?"

"We had a little demonic moment. You don't remember telling us about Armaros…"

"I…I don't have a clue… who the hell is he?"

"She…" Bobby started, "She was the one that …"

"It's over," Sam noted. "She's never coming back…you're safe."

"Good! You kick'er ass?"

Sam shrugged. "Something like that."

"So much more... all this energy surrounding you boys... "

"She's right... Bobby…Back there… Wain…... Wain... He... the demon said she was the one that took your son? But..."

"I..."

"My God... all that pain... you've..." Sam tried to explain.

"It's the past. I can't change it and reliving it is not..."

"I'm sorry..."

"What the hell for?"

"That you couldn't be the one to kill her."

"Listen good to me, son. That thing hurt us all. No matter who rid the world of it- knowin' it's gone will let me sleep way better."

"Why didn't you ever tell..."

"Never seemed right burdening you with my..."

"But, you're family, Bobby." Dean said.

Even after all these years, though he loathed to admit it, the pain still burned for his wife and son. He had moved on, accepted it, and grown to love Sam and Dean as he would his own. "The dead don't need me so much..."

"We do..." Sam said with tears in his eyes.

"That's cause you ain't got sense that God gave a goose."

"They're okay! Really okay…." John muttered. "Promise me they'll be okay?"

"You'll see them again- when it's their time. For now, you have to….

John flashed a pirate smile, glancing once more at his sons. "We can go now."

**

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THE END

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Author's note: Hope you liked the ending.. and didn't see it coming.

**Thanks for reading and sharing thoughts, reviews, and ideas with me. I appreciate it.**


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